Fantasy Tabletop Offline
by Agent 94
Summary: "A priestess of the Dragon, a black swordsman of the Dark Gods, and a wayfaring sharpshooter, walk into a cemetery ..." Kirito, Shino and Silica play a tabletop campaign, much to the GM's suffering. A Halloween Special.
1. Chapter 1

**Date posted: 1st October 2019**

* * *

**CHAPTER I**

It is a dim and somewhat cloudy day.

The town of Barren Dirt is a typical town in the province of Anada, the second farthest province from the capital, on the western edges of the empire. The farms around are half dead, sorry excuses for crops pretending to be wheat. Beggars and vagrants line the street as dishonest merchants try to squeeze the last drop of blood from the peasantry.

A mad prophet preaches to his non-existent congregation by the town well. "The Dark Lords rises from their slumber! The sun shall bleed! The orc horde comes from the west! Prices of cabbage have risen up by 25%! Oh, the humanity!"

Your cart stops by the main entrance to the town. You pay the mangy driver his silver.

He bites the coin with a yellow tooth, a sinister gleam in his eye and nods. "Be sure to leave a review if you can!" he says all jolly like, then whips his skinny steeds away.

"Can I do a Medicine check to see if I get a disease?" asks Keiko.

Keiko, this is the third time this session. You haven't met the others yet.

"Oh sorry! Just being careful."

The halfling priestess of the Dragon Goddess Pina makes her way to her destination. The road is dry and dusty, staining your pristine white robe. Barren Dirt is supposed to be a farming community with a strong commercial centre, and perhaps once upon a time was, but times are hard and business has dried up. There is roughly a couple dozen stores/homes lining the streets most barred and deserted.

Your short stature does you no favour with the filth.

"Why do healers need to wear white anyway? I'm not in the temple doing my job. It doesn't make sense," complained the priestess.

"When you get to the rank of Deacon, your robes actually have a resist dirt enchantment."

"Oooh!"

"No metagaming, Kazuto," says Shino.

"Right. Sorry."

You puff up your chest and stood straight. You have a job to do, the dragon wills it!

You step onto something squishy, the remains of a dead cat. A torrent of black rats emerge from around a corner and take it away.

"Ewwww."

You arrive at the Black Ichor tavern where your contact is, the tavern located at the main junction of the town's T-shaped road. You had never been in a tavern before, but the image you had conjured up in your imagination was accurate to a tee.

Farmers and smiths drown their sorrows due to lack of work. Ruffians in leathers stare at you menacingly; an overall unfriendly air. All eyes are on you as you make your way to the bar where a burly bartender wipes an eternally dirty mug.

"What's a holy woman doing in a place like this?"

"Actually I'm looking for someone."

"Buy a drink first then we'll talk."

You place what little copper you have on the counter. "Just water."

"You hear that, lads? The halfling's asking for water!" The regulars chuckle and mirth at your order.

"Your cheapest beer then." You've never had alcohol in your entire life.

"Coming right up, sayyidah." He takes the glass he was wiping and pours something out of the nearest barrel, thick, black and gooey.

He slams the glass onto the bar. The 'beer' bubbled and burped as if it has a mind of its own.

The bartender grins a toothless grin, challenging you. All eyes in the tavern are on you again.

"Do I need to roll for something?"

Yeah, roll for Toughness.

"Is this an Easy or Hard check?"

It's an Easy one.

"Keiko, the beer is pitch black," says Kirito.

Roll a d10 plus your Toughness, Keiko.

\- d2+3

"Oh nooooo!"

You take a sip. It tastes really good.

"Hey, this tastes really good!"

"Thank you, miss. I only hope that I did my mentors at the Brewery Guild justice," the bartender bows humbly. Kazuto, you're up.

"A new figure enters the tavern. Heavy footfalls thumps loudly in the cramped establishment. The figure is clad in dark midnight leathers, spikes protruded from his massive black pauldrons, from which hangs a long flowing black coat and in his hand was a black sword wreathed in black flames. Glowing red eyes shone from behind his black visor, his helmet a full sallet with two dragonbone horns atop. He takes a seat at the bar, sitting himself on a stool that was also on black fire."

"**Greetings, priestess,"** says the swordsman, voice like gravel. **"Was it you who required my services?"**

I am never letting you describe a scene ever again.

"Did you gargle a bunch of rocks before you came to the table?" asks Shino.

"**This is how evil sounds like."**

"No, that's what throat cancer sounds like," she retorts.

"What … are you?" asks the priestess.

"**I am many things. You may call me the Knight of Chaotic Rage, Invincible Nightmare, Glorious Evil."**

The halfling nods. "Right, so the Knight of Cringe?"

"Hold on!" he squeaks. He finds his voice again. **"Uh, you know what? You may call me the Black Swordsman."**

"I am Acolyte Silica. So, Swordsman-san-"

"**Black Swordsman-san."**

"Is there a reason why you would work for the temple? Why would the temple hire you? I mean, look at you!"

He shrugged, the spikey end of his pauldrons nearly digging into his own helmet. **"It pays well. So what if I serve the Temple of Pina at least by proxy? The Guts God does not care where guts are spilled from."**

After a moment, he says, **"I found your Help Wanted ad on a billboard."**

"Sounds about right." The temple should check on these things.

The halfling girl points an accusing finger at him. "You better not do anything funny! The Dragon protects Her Faithful."

"**Of course, little one. You're too small fry to be worth the trouble. We are from now, partners."**

"Very well. Put it there."

Silica extends her right hand. The Black Swordsman awkwardly shakes with his left.

"**I can't let go of my sword."**

"Cursed item?"

Cursed item.

"I thought you said you won't let Kazuto made his dumb munchkin builds again," says Shino.

Don't worry, I've planned around it.

"**The damage this thing does is 100% worth it."**

"How do you go to the bathroom?" asks Silica.

"**VERY carefully."**

A black swordsman of the Dark Gods and an acolyte of the Dragon made for an odd sight for sure, but the townsfolk don't seem to mind all that much.

You find yourselves on the road a few minutes later, going east to the cemetery.

* * *

**I started this project late October of last year and realised I wasn't going to finish the whole thing. So instead of scrapping it, I rewrote it. **

**Don't take the dice rolls too seriously, the players don't even have actual character sheets. They should be using 2d10s, but for story reasons, a single d10 is easier to math and doesn't slow down the pace.**

**Experimenting with both 2nd person and 3rd person perspective, and if it's too difficult to follow, I will change it. Be sure to voice any concerns you have with the style. Mind you, it's not going to change but it will be edited to flow more smoothly.**

**Taking a break from Retold at the moment. Will likely finish the entire fic by the end of October.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Date posted: 7th October 2019**

* * *

**CHAPTER II**

The cemetery is large - roughly half the size of Barren Dirt - as it was also used by other villages. Even through the late day mist, they could see figures shambling through the rusted fence, an aura of unease enveloping the entire burial grounds.

The Black Swordsman taps the chin of his helmet with an armored finger. "**I suppose you have enough spells to clear them out?"**

"I only have 3 spell slots, all of is Cast Minor Heal Wounds. I also have a medicine kit for non-magic healing."

"**See, this is why a sword is better than a spell."** He holds his blade in both hands, the flames now actually generating heat which it didn't before. **"You priests must learn that violence is the way of the world."**

"I don't see any potions on you. What if you get hurt?"

"**Pain is power. It is weakness leaving the body."**

Kazuto spent all of his starting money on his gear.

"**Hey, GM. Shut up."**

You reach the entrance to the cemetery. Despite the fact it was afternoon, it was cloudy, the mists are twice as thick as you would expect.

You spy a skeleton of some dead farmer had gotten ahold a plank of wood. It strikes the ground, as if repeating the routine of his previous life.

"**Are there any other enemies in the area?"**

None that you can see.

"**I roll to detect any enemies."**

The mist is pretty thick, I say this is a Challenging difficulty. Roll a d10 plus your Intelligence.

d8+9

Though the resting grounds is littered with undead, most are far enough away to not notice you. You spot a maloseum, its stone doors open.

"That is our destination," says Silica. "The source of this necromancy must be inside the catacombs. We should plan accordingly -"

"I charge the nearest zombie and hack his head off."

Sure thing. So you make these rolls …

"Pina damn it," curses the priestess.

"**I AM THE EIGHTFOLD PATH. FEAR ME, UNLIVING." **The black swordsman charges into the enemy. Silica runs after.

With one swift swing he whacks the skeleton's head clean off its shoulders. Two more appear from behind large gravestones. You cut down one, but the other nicks you in the shoulder with a sharp stick but your armour protects you. Silica comes in and whacks it in the head with her staff.

Others emerge from the ground. A hand grabs onto the priestess' ankle, and with some difficulty you break free. The Swordsman kicks the hand away and lops it off, igniting the limb on fire. More undead shamble towards you.

Though you are able to fend them off one at a time, more and more arrive from the mists. Many attacked with their fists and teeth but a handful are able to get in through the gaps of the Swordsman's armour. The sword is powerful enough to cleave a zombie in one or two strikes, but your leathers offers no such protection.

Three turns pass, the warrior is down a quarter of his health whereas the priestess had burned one of her healing spells. The cemetery is clear … for now.

"I thought I was going to join this fight?" asks Sinon.

Bold of you to assume that was it. Get ready.

The air grows colder. Foul magic pollutes the graveyard even further as remaining zombies suddenly retreated. You hear something being dragged in the distance, and the silhouette of something big.

"**Priestess, tell me you have something more powerful than a couple of Heals."**

"Faith in the Dragon is more powerful than any debased necromancy."

"**So I take that as a no. Pick up another weapon." **Silica picks up a rusty broken sword.

Standing at twelve feet -

"Please use the metric system, we're not savages," says Shino.

Standing at _four metres, _the hulking abomination before you is an amalgamation of some twenty corpses, held together by dark magic. Its fists were skulls and bones, its legs were torsos of men and women. Its own torso a compressed mass of not only human bodies but animal carcases, the ribs of cows and deer keeping it whole and giving it some a carapace-like armour. The head of the monster that of a particularly massive deer, its horns elongated to an unnatural degree.

The Swordsman holds his black blade in front of him, Silica did the same with her broken sword.

Roll for initiative.

\- d10+9

\- d10+7

\- d10+15

Shino, what do you do?

"I aim my weapon and blow his head clean off. My Ranged Skill is 22."

The crack of the rifle struck like lightning through the mist and the beast's dear skull split in half as a bullet struck it dead center. Bits of bone fly all over, exposing flesh. Someone was shooting from atop another mausoleum, the brief shot momentarily illuminated them.

"**Wait a minute, that's not an arrow!" **

The Champion of the Guts God unleashed a furry of sword swipes at the monster. It brings up a fleshy arm and the fist-skull cracks your right pauldron, breaking skin and spilling blood, almost cracking your shoulder. Silica recites a prayer, and the swordsman feels his broken flesh knitting itself. The mysterious shooter fires another round, splitting its side.

Four more rounds pass. The abomination is torn and shredded. Half a dozen bullets leaves gaping holes, its bone-armour shredded, bloody wounds on charred flesh, and a single broken sword stuck where by its side. It charges at its nearest target and lifts a stump of an arm, the bisected torso of some poor sod, for one last blow.

The swordsman is too far away to intercept the blow, the shooter has yet to reload. The priestess, unarmed, does the only thing that made sense to her.

"I cast Heal Minor Wounds on it!"

Holy magic radiates through your fingers as the spell slams into the creature. Its flesh burns brightly, a stark contrast to the black flames of before. With a screeching wail of anguish, the corpses fall apart as the magic that binds it finally dies. You are applauded by the silence of the cemetery, and the smell of charred flesh of your foes.

300 XP for everyone.

"Yes! I got the final blow!" Keiko yells, fists in the air,

"You did great, dear!" says Shino.

"**I thought Heals don't work on undead - ow!" **he yelps, as Shino steps on his foot under the table.

The fighter kicks a chunk of meat with his boot. **"Urgh, this smells worse than diving into a city's sewer systems."**

The priestess pinches her nose in disgust. "We'll need a whole group of clerics to purify this place. I'll have to request one from the church if we are to put these souls to rest."

A figure approaches from the mist. **"Who goes there? Friend or foe?"**

"Friend, hopefully."

The first thing that you notice that the newcomer is a dwarf. The second thing is that she is armed to the teeth. In her hands was a Sharplock Arquebus, an uncommon weapon, used mostly by the elites of many militaries. A bandolier of cartridges hang off the left shoulder, another bandolier of pistols on her right. She wore a humble dirty green gambeson, and a kettle helmet on her head. Her eyes were as blue as her hair.

"Sino Sternguard," she tips her hat. "Manling. Halfling. Pardon priestess, I arrived a bit earlier, and decided to scout the area for me'self."

"Aww, that's a good dwarf accent, Shino-chan!"

"Thank you! I've been practicing in the shower."

"**Wait wait, didn't you want to make an elven archer? I even sent you a character sheet!"**

"Well for one, Kazuto-kun, you built an extremely overpowered elf archer that could sneak attack a dragon in three shots with a mid-game bow, and that's fun for no one. Two, I went to the GM and he told me it was broken as heck. So I just borrowed one of his old character sheets and made a few tweaks."

"If the game allows me to master its system and break it apart I should be able to do it!" _Bang._

Don't slam my table.

"Sorry."

The dwarf points to the mausoleum. "When you came charging in, I noticed a bunch of strange folk milling about, doing some sort of weird ceremony. I dunno much about magic, but I did saw sum' pretty lights and thingamajigs and whatnot. I was going to sneak a lil' peek, but then _someone _decided to charge in all un-smart like, so here I am instead."

"**Looks like that's where we're going next,"** says the swordsman. **"You need some sort of weapon, priestess. I can't defend you all the time."**

She looks around, noting only bits of debris and broken ceremonial weapons. "Is there one I can borrow?"

"**You can borrow my backup weapon."**

"Oh thanks - I DON'T HAVE THE STATS FOR THAT!" yells the priestess, pointing at the enormous greataxe he pulled out of nowhere. "Also, I thought you said you can't let go of your current sword!"

"**I use my other hand of course."**

"So you're dual wielding two heavy weapons?"

"**It's not against the rules. Well it is, but we homebrewed it."**

"You sure you're okay with this build, GM?" asks Shino.

It's fine trust me. I got this handled.

Sino hands the Silica one of her pistols. "I can teach her the basics with this right?"

Sure, but she needs to level up proper if she wants to use firearms. You can use any weapon, assuming you have the stats and skills, but if you don't you'll do so with a penalty.

"Did you not put any points into any combat skills?"

"I put them in all in Lore, Alchemy, Medic, and all other neat stuff!"

A lightbulb appears over the swordsman's head. **"So does that mean I can use my sword and a gu-"**

ANYWAY you check yourselves for injuries. Between Sino and Silica, you have enough potions to share between all three. You loot what you can, which isn't much save the odd grave treasures, and stuff them in your packs. The swordsman puts all the corpses in a pile for a later blessing. The dwarf teaches the halfling on how to shoot and reload the gun, hoping that the priestess doesn't actually need to use it. Her Ranged Skill was abysmal.

You stand before the mausoleum doors. Whatever features or engravings it used to have, you cannot discern them. You enter, and find yourself in a small room with a couple of sarcophogi. You hear some rumbling from them, but whoever bodies they were, they weren't strong enough to open the lid and you all decide to let them be. Sino performs a perception check, and spots a the barest of gaps in the floor tiles: a secret entrance.

You descend into the catacombs below.

* * *

**Can't get good without reviews, people. You know what to do.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Date posted: 14th October 2019**

* * *

**CHAPTER III**

The corridors are old, the stonework are cracked. The pathway tiled before making way for the earth. As you descend further into the earth, the corridor gets smaller, saved only by the lit torches aligning the walls. You hear-

"**Who lit these?**" asks the swordsman.

"Maybe it's the people we're after," says the sharpshooter. She had holstered her rifle and now wields a couple of flintlocks.

They're magical torches. You know how in video games dungeons are always well lit? Magic. Anyway -

The swordsman nods. **"I say we take all these torches and sell them back in town for a good price. Then we can use the money to upgrade our gear."**

You hear a screech from down further. It looks like someone is being hurt! You feel a great need to hurry!

"I am actually running low on bullets," grumbles the dwarf. "They ain't expensive but they ain't cheap either."

"I have a couple of sacks with me!" beams Silica.

Oh God.

"**So GM, how long is this corridor, and how many torches have we passed?"**

Ugh. Fine.

You take a few minutes to stuff a dozen torches into your sacks, despite the screaming you hear from the end of the hallway. Very painful screaming.

"Oh yeah, the screaming. We should get to that," says Sino.

You rush down and emerge into a large chamber. Sarcophagi line the walls, their lids scattered on the floor. In the middle is a man in work clothes, tied with rope.

"Oh thank heavens, adventurers! Have you come to save me?"

"**Depends, will you pay me? You look rich, I bet you're a merchant."**

Sino sighs. "And they say dwarves are the greediest race."

You untie the victim. "My name is Zaid, the owner of the general store from Barren Dirt. I came to pay my respects to my late parents until I saw some strange folk scurrying about. Horrible creatures who speak in an alien tongue! I tried to run but they caught me and dragged me here. Thankfully you've come as quickly as you can AND DIDN'T WASTE ANY TIME."

The players ignore this outburst.

"Did you not see them zombies walking around?" asks Sino.

The man's eyes widened. "First them, and then necromancy?"

"Who is 'them'?" asks the halfling.

The merchant shudders as he answers. "Micemen."

"Micemen?" The acolyte laughs nervously. "There is no such thing as micemen. They don't exist."

"**Micemen, of course! You don't know what micemen are?"** asks the swordsman. "I do know what micemen are right?" Kazuto asks, out of character.

Did you take any Lore?

"**No."**

History?

"**No."**

Academia?

"**No."**

Anything that _isn't_ a combat skill?

"**Let's see here ... Intimidate, Swim, and Torture."**

"Why did you take Torture of all things …" Sino sighs.

The swordsman grits his teeth and sighs. **"What is a mouseman?"**

Silica rolls high for her Historical Knowledge. "It is said, a thousand years ago, an army of intelligent rodents of abnormal proportions came out of the earth to plague the race of man, elf and dwarf. A plague fell upon the world, where three out of four Imperial citizens died to disease. It was called the Cheddar Plague, as it's theorised that it came from infected milk sabotaged by the micemen.

"It took thirty years for the Empire to recover. And by the time of today, they have fallen to myth and legend."

"They ain't no myth that's for sure," says the dwarf. "The micemen are real, and we've been at war with them as long as we can remember. My mother and her mother before her have been fighting them off for as long as our bloodline can remember."

The priestess' face became paler. "So they exist? Why would the empire cover this up? Does the sultan know?"

"That's because manlings are a forgetful and craven race, who jumps at their own shadows and ignores the dangers that are beneath them."

"**Wow Sternguard, racist much."**

Shino balks. "It's roleplaying!"

"I dunno, sounds pretty racist," says the priestess.

"You're not even human, you're a halfling."

"Wow _rude_. I feel very discriminated against. Is it because I'm Japanese?"

"_We're both Japanese, Keiko."_

Ahem. The merchant waits for an answer.

The swordsman speaks again. **"Return to your home, shopkeeper. But know that we expect a bountiful reward for this."**

"Yes, sayyid. Thank you, sayyid. A thousand thanks, sayyid." He bows again and again before hoofing it out of the tomb.

The three of you venture deeper into the tomb, moving past open sarcophagi and skull aligned walls. You perform perception check after perception check, wary of any trap. None seem to sprung. It takes a while, but you finally reached a set of massive stone doors, twice the height of a normal door. There did not seem to be any handles or lock only a slit that indicates a way to open it. Unlike the rest of the mausoleum with its packed dirt and bricks, the doors were cyclopean, and you wonder how they were brought down here in the first place.

"I want to discern what this door exactly is," says the halfling.

Roll a d10 plus your Intelligence to make a History check.

\- d2+34

"I don't seem to recognise this architecture …" says Silica, annoyed at her bad roll.

"I want to take a shot at it," says the shooter.

Use Common Knowledge: Dwarf.

"This isn't dwarven craftsmanship that's for sure."

You're too dumb to know anything beyond swording. You don't even know what a door is.

"**Har har, thou art a funny one."**

"Look here," says Sino. She places a hand on one of the doors, runes light us letters appear before you.

_I am yellow as gold,_

_Holier than a shrine,_

_Delightful to taste, _

_But as smelly as swine._

_What am I?_

"**This is a very inefficient method of security. I'd like to roll for Hacking."**

Sure. That's a d10 plus your Hackin - waitaminute! No, you're supposed to solve it!

"Come now, manling. This is clearly a test of our minds instead of our steel, we should approach accordingly," says the dwarf.

Thank you.

"Okay, I'm not sure how the crafting stuff works, but can I take all the black powder from my inventory and, like, craft a bomb?"

Points for the dwarfiness, but maybe try to answer it first?

The halfling snaps her fingers. "Come now, the answer is quite clear!"

That's the spirit.

"The answer is clearly pee."

_How did you think it was pee._

"**Silica clearly thinks pee is delightful to taste."**

"Is it against the rules to stab a fellow player when they're asleep?"

"**The answer is clearly mustard."**

"Well that don't make no sense, manling. Mustard's not holy, and it doesn't smell bad."

"**Hmm, that is true."**

"Also, mustard tastes godawful, the opposite of delightful."

The swordsman's blade blazes in black flame. **"Say that again, dwarf."**

"Say what?" she asks, unfearing.

"**That blasphemy. Mustard is the mana of the God of Pleasures. The Blade of the Hot Dog."**

"Now you're just being hyperbolic."

"**No really. According to the ancient text, Ars Gore-Tia, mustard is derived from that one time She was snorting a lot of spices while doing a rocking shred on her lightning guitar …"**

The priestess plugs her ears. "La la la, not listening to heresy!"

"**Well if you know so much, miss dwarf, what's the real answer?"**

The dwarf crosses her arms in typical dwarven pride. "It's clearly butter."

Ah, close. But not quite.

Sino pouts. "I can't believe it's not butter."

"Mind giving us some hints, pretty please?" the priestess asks sweetly.

That's not a bad idea, in fact, that's a gouda idea.

"Hmm, nothing's coming up," she admits.

Do think a little more before you get feta up with this puzzle.

"**I just think puzzles aren't a good idea in games."**

I dis-a-brie.

"What if I paid you 1000 yen?" asks the dwarf.

Nacho in your entire life.

"Is it gold?" asks the acolyte. She sighs. "This is hopeless."

Come on, I think you three are doing just grate.

The dwarf snaps her fingers. "It's a banana."

_Long exasperated GM sighing._

This continued on for ten minutes straight.

Kazuto slams the table, for the fourteenth time in a row.** "IT'S VANILLA ICE CREAM."**

You know what? Sure.

With a creak and the sound of grating stone, the doors open slowly but surely. Victoriously, they entered.

"**I'm so smart, you guys."**

"Shut up," says Sino.

"You know, this would have gotten done faster if you left a few hints," the priestess complains.

_Long exasperated GM sighing part 2._

You see a glow of yellow at the end of the corridor. It is intense, brighter than any natural fire you've ever seen. You approach cautiously, careful not to give away your presence.

You find yourself atop a set of stairs, overlooking a pit, stealthily hiding yourselves behind the pillars surrounding said pit. At the base are figures hooded and cloaked, clutching slates, surrounding a strange machine of sorts. The pillars aren't pillars at all, but steel rods. From the bottom there is a faint smell. Subtle, yet potent.

The smell of evil.

_Sniffs. _"What is this?"

"Look down!" the sharpshooter whispers loudly, and so you do.

The contraption in the middle of the room is nothing like you've ever seen. A massive machine that made loud clanking noises, loud enough to hide your own voices. It was as large as a cart, and bright yellow. The machine had multiple holes in them, lights blared out from these holes. Its attendants check it constantly, writing down notes on their slates.

The contraption itself looks … somewhat familiar.

"Can I use common sense? Technology? Something?" asks the dwarf.

Roll a d10 plus your Intelligence.

\- d7+35

"It's … it's cheese? A giant block of … cheese"

Silica rolls high for her Lore. "That's not normal cheese. That's infernal dairy! It's Warpcheddar!"

"By the Ancestor's Great Guns."

"**By the Guts God. We're gonna be rich!"**

You don't know what Warpcheddar is, nor the true value of it.

"**Oh come on!"**

You sneak closer, using the 'pillars' as cover. As you get closer, you notice a hole in the ceiling. It is dark and you can see the moons shining. The cloaked figures were visible to you. Their pudgy faces, big brown eyes eyes, and pink squeak and chitter amongst themselves, loud enough for you to hear.

"_Monsieur professeuer, we are almost within our goals! The generator has an efficiency of 70%!"_

"_Tres bon! Excellent work, underling! Soon the surface will know the awesome power of electricity! Peace will prosper between both empires! With this technology, the march to peace will be unstoppable!"_

The dozen micemen embrace in each other in a group hug. At least, that's what you would have known had you spoken their language. To your untrained ears, you hear their speech like so:

"Lord Big Brain! We are within our goal-goal! _Screech. _The Chaos Engine will soon achieve maximum power!"

"Good-good, minion! Soon, the surface realm will know the destructive powers of our machines! _Screech. _We will take their empires piece by piece, yes yes! With this technology, our march of conquest will be unstoppable!"

Sino Sternguard surveys the situation. "We should split up and attack them from -"

You're too far away, and due to the loud machine your voice cannot be heard by your companions.

"Er, I do a bunch of hand signals to signal the Black Swordsman to flank them from the other side."

"**Alright, I'll jump down into the pit, brandish my blade, and yell 'your days are numbered you damn dirty rats!"**

"Chotto matte-"

The Black Swordsman jumps down into pit, brandishing his blade and yells, "**Your days are numbered you damn dirty rats!"**

Keiko and Shino facepalm.

The micemen jump in surprise at your presence. One of them, the leader you assume, holds up his hands.

"_Squeak! Manling, why are you here?!"_

Is what you would have heard, but instead you hear:

"Skree! Manflesh, why are you here?!"

"**To stop you from whatever you're doing! My blade, yearns for rat meat!"**

They just realised the shooter above them, aiming her gun. Half of them pull out their flintlocks, the other half are unarmed.

"_Don't you see, manling? We had done no such thing with the bodies of the dead! We planned to deal with them, and bury them again when our work was done! None of us here have any knowledge in the dark arts of necromancy!" _The head mouseman holds up its pink paws in hopes of peace.

What you hear: "Are you blind, manthing?! Yes, it was our experiments that raised the dead! We had planned to deal with them, but seeing as you are here, we'll bury you alongside them!" The head mouseman holds up its pink paws, ready to fight.

Silica rolls for a Perception check. "Wait, I think something's not right."

The shooter does not take her eyes off the mice. "Well you're right halfling, we got a situation on our hands right now."

"No, I mean ... I think they're trying to negotiate?"

"Negotiate? Har! And me mother was an elf."

"**Can we roll Initiative now?"**

Cautiously, the lead mouse procures something from its white coat. "Calm yourself, manflesh! I bring to you, a bribe!"

The swordsman raises an eyebrow. **"A sandwich?"**

It was no mere sandwich. The bread looks much too solid, but not like that from a warm oven. There is a type of jam, it is thick and orange. With a twist of the creature's fingers, the sandwich breaks apart, and the orange jam spills like molten gold.

It is the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You are enraptured by it. You have never seen such a delicacy.

Roll a d10 plus your Willpower to resist.

\- d2+21

\- d3+28

\- d7+30

Silica looks at how dumbfounded her companions had become. Their eyes are trained on the magical sandwich the mouseman had dangled in front of them. It looks delicious, smells enticing, but she has the willpower to resist its charm. What a wondrous thing it is. The black swordsman's blade dims and lowers, the shooter's rifle drops out of her hand.

"_Excusez-moi, but I am forced to use the aura of Grilled Cheese upon you, strangers. But it is the only way to stop you from hurting my compatriots."_ Silica could not exactly understand what the mouseman just said, but it involves things like grilling human flesh or the like.

"_Rapidement, take them away! We must pack away our things and leave before the humans notice us. Recall the scouts! Do not harm them in any way!" _Silica fears for her comrades, as she hears the lead mouseman demanding his underlings to torture them.

The sharpshooter and the swordsman stand dumbfounded, eyes wide, arms limp.

"Wait, do they not notice me?"

You check over the edge of the pit, a few are climbing up the stairs of the pit to approach the dwarf. The rest were tying up the swordsman, failing to part the sword from his hand. They're trying, really hard.

"What do I do?! What do I do?!"

Shino elbows her in the arm. "You have a gun don't you?"

"Oh right!" She pulls out her gun and places it under her chin."You'll never take me alive, rats!" the priestess shouts, finger on the trigger.

"KEIKO-CHAN NO!"

NO I MEANT SHOOTING THEM WITH YOUR GUN, YOU DUMBASS!

"**Hey, can I have your stuff when you die?"**

"Oh right!" says the acolyte, aims her pistol at one of the rats, and fires.

You miss.

"Well, darn."

The lead mouseman yells again, _"Another one?!"_

The gunshot is loud enough to break both of you from the charm spell. Roll for initiative.

The mouseman closest to Sino grapples onto her gun, trying to wrestle it away. With a successful check (d9l), you retake control of your gun and shoot the offending creature pointblank. This is enough to scare away the other two from approaching you. You pull your pistols from your holsters and shoot them down too.

With a flick of your wrist, you disarm one of the gunmouse, literally, as your blade lops off a wrist holding a pistol. The other blasts you in panic, lodging a bullet in your bicep. Another fires a shot, missing entirely. The priestess casts a heal spell on the swordsman, mending the wound.

Another round passes as the dwarf and the swordsman guns and cuts their opponent. The priestess reloads her pistol, shoots, misses and hits the machine. It is enough to enrage/scare the lead mouseman.

"_No, you'll make it explode, hafling!_ / No, _skree, _I'll explode you, hafling!"

Before another warning can come out of the mouseman's mouth, the black blade buries into his belly and with a stroke, disembowels him. He dies, falling onto the ground.

The machine continues to hum.

The three of you gather before it. You have no idea what it does.

"I don't like leaving this thing by itself," says the dwarf. "We should probably disable it."

"**I could hit it really hard."**

"Maybe we should examine it first," says the halfling.

You discover two activation runes on one side. A green rune and a red rune. Cautiously, you press the red rune. The machine sputters, wheezes, and sleeps.

"Well that was easy!" says the priestess.

"**Do you know how many times I've been stabbed?"**

"Well, looks like the job's done. I think," says the dwarf, not 100% sure of herself.

You scour and loot the science room. You find charts, notes and journals written in a nonsense mice language, measurement tools you don't know how to use, and most notably, the fabled hypnosis item in the coat of the lead mouseman.

The priestess pries it away with a piece of cloth, the delicious smell strong even through the fabric. "We must use this carefully."

"Huh, I thought your temple forbids the use of this warpcheddar. Heretical, ain't it?" asks Sino.

"We'll have to dispose of it, carefully. If not, it will be used for greater evil!"

You leave the catacombs for the surface. Silica with her new enchanted item, Sino with extra pistols, and the swordsman with a blood bag of spines.

"**So how much XP for all of that?'**

Wait until the end of the session.

* * *

**Next week, the climax, and maybe if I'm not the lazy, the epilogue.**

**Can YOU figure out the riddle? I know, it's very very hard. Only people with 200 IQ can solve it. Answer the riddle in the reviews, and I'll send you a Longsword +2 to your address.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Date posted: 22nd October 2019**

* * *

**CHAPTER IV**

It is midnight, half the town of Barren Dirt sleeps, the other half seem to squeeze themselves in the Black Ichor tavern.

"**Behold, commoners! I bring to you the spines of the ratmen!" **The swordsman brandishes his trophies. **"This is my offering to the Guts God, so hey may sit upon his Spine Sofa eternal!"**

The crowd oohs and aahs.

A farmer raises his hand. "Yeah okay, but how do we know it's the spine of the micemen and not a bunch of spines you took from my grandpappy?"

He stomps his foot on the table (because of course he was standing on one). **"These are a dozen spines, peasant! Where else am I going to get a dozen spines? From your one grandfather?!"**

A washerwoman asks, "I dunno, sayyid. These look awfully clean."

"**Well I washed them before I brought them in, of course! The bartender won't let me in if I didn't."**

"Ain't you worshipping the dark gods? You know, like the stinky one that don't shower? Why you wash em', then?"

"**Are you questioning my faith?"**

"And what if I am, good sayyid? In fact, I don't think this religion of yours is even real."

"**I will punish you for such blasphemy. I roll to smack the blasphemer with the spines!"**

You engage in combat with four other NPCs. They hoot and holler at the sudden brawl. No swording allowed. Make so and so rolls. You two, chat and stuff, move the story forward.

The priestess and the sharpshooter sit at the bar, nursing mugs of beer, their legs a few inches off the ground. "By tomorrow morning, you two will get your pay and we'll be on our separate ways," says Silica.

"This is too neat, I think," says Sino.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well for one, this isn't a oneshot and is only the first session, which means we'll likely get a part two later."

What did I tell you about metagaming.

"Secondly, we don't even know if the micemen were even responsible for the undead walking around. If they did, why didn't they summon a similar abomination to attack us while we were in their lair? Not a single zombie attacked us while we were in the actual catacombs."

"What are you saying, miss dwarf?"

"I don't think those micemen were responsible. The more I think about it, I think we got the wrong suspects."

Silica gasps. "You're right, I totally miss that! Also, we've only got an hour left before we have to get home."

A man bursts in through the door. "Adventurers, strangers about at the edge of town! They were looking for you!"

The Black Swordsman halts a punch at a random tavern goer, **"What did they look like?"**

"Furry."

You find yourselves at the edge of town under the full moon. There are half a dozen strangers, big fellows in body covering cloaks. You stand twelve metres away from each other. The one in the middle is the biggest, you see something big poking out under their cloaks. Something dangerous.

"Is it -"

No, Keiko. It's a weapon. And this session is rated T.

"Whew!"

The big one moves forward, a pudgy brown face appears under its hood.

It speaks, _"You have slain my brothers and sisters, destroyed our work, and stolen our holy artefact. For my brothers' honour, my clan's honour, and mine own, I should destroy you. But that is not our goal, our long term plan. Return the artefact, and we will leave, though you have done us grievous harm. We will forgive, but never forget."_

What you actually hear: "GIVE US ARTEFACT OR DIE-DIE!"

Silica clutches the item in her robes. "Wait! Maybe we can talk this out!"

The cloak falls away to reveal the speaker, the largest of the rodents, a capybara, decked in plate. He, unlike actual capybaras, is not friend shaped. Neither is the massive spincannon he carries, six barrels of death.

"LAST WARNING!" it skree'd. The other micemen pull out battle axes.

"**I light up my sw-"**

"Shush!" The dwarf holds back the swordsman. "Do you really think you can take on a spincannon at point blank?"

"**I can run, like, really good," **says the swordsman. He then glances at his character sheet. **"Okay, maybe you have a point."**

Sino looks at Silica. "Priestess, hand them the forbidden sandwich."

"No, we can take him!"

"Are you crazy? We're still level 1, if you've forgotten!" says Sino.

"This is a potent magical item! It would be so useful in later sessions!"

"Do you want to start a new character? Because that's what's gonna happen if we don't."

"**Hngh, the dwarf's right. Even if we did, we don't have the element of surprise. Capybara over there has some quality armour."**

I can't believe you're thinking logically about this. Planning! Discussing! Tactics! Finally!

Silica sighs. "Alright, fine." She takes out the grilled cheese from its covering, and the micemen look at it with awe and reverence.

"GIVE BACK, NOW NOW!" the capybara demands.

"I approach the mouseman, with cheese in hand," says Silica, slowly approaching the enemies. They all look somewhat nervous.

"How nervous?" she asks.

Pretty nervous. They're afraid their artefact would be destroyed if you were to drop it.

The sharpshooter hmms at this.

"**Nervous enough to say … not be willing to risk it?"**

As willing to open fire in a museum.

"**I steady myself into a sprint stance."**

The priestess almost reaches the gunner.

"I place a hand on one of my pistols, focussing on the big one," says the Sino.

The priestess and the spingunner are two feet apart. You sure you wanna do this?

The three of them look at each other, communicate telepathically, and nod.

"I hold out the grilled sandwich to give to the mouseman."

The mouseman reaches for it, lowering his cannon -

"I pretend to drop it, only to catch it before it hits the ground."

The capybara looks as if he has been struck with a heart attack. "NO!" it skrees.

"I aim for an arm and his helmet."

Roll for your Ranged Skill, with penalty.

\- d9+29

Dual wielding your flintlocks, your first aim lands true as the round hits the helmet, stunning him for one turn. Your second shot hits the capybara's arm, reducing its own Ranged skill. It clutches its head in pain as the bullet buries itself in its helmet.

The axemice come at you, weapons glinting in the moonlight. The swordsman cuts one down, only to be strike by the other two. Your leathers prove to be ineffective as the axeheads bite into your body. Another shot rings out and the swordsman expects another one of the micemen to fall down but none did.

The dwarf clutches the bullet wound in her side, vaguely aware of the shot that came from behind her. "We've got a sniper!"

Sharpshooter and priestess take cover behind the boxes and under the awnings of the houses. The swordsman fails to disengage and takes an attack of opportunity by one of the micemen. He would have gotten into the red had it not been a quick heal by Silica.

Sino downs her medicine and throws away the empty potion bottle. She peaks behind from her pile of crates by the general store. "They must be on the roofs!" Another shot cracks, destroying a shoddy wheelbarrow nearby. "We gotta lure it out!"

"I try to look for something that can help me," says the priestess.

You roll well on your Perception, despite the darkness. You notice the corpse of a man nearby, sitting on a bench of some closed down store. It was the town nightwatchman, his torch extinguished, his throat cut open. His sword was still in its scabbard.

You say a prayer to the Dragon Goddess and borrow his round shield. It is far too big for you.

The next round begins, the capybara recovers from the knockin' on its noggin'. Throwing the dented helmet away, it ignores the ongoing melee of its comrades and hoses the building with where Silica takes cover. Silica rolls lucky, and the hail of gunfire misses her by the hems of her robe.

The dwarf quickshots one of the enemy miceman, knocking its health by half. It tries to flee, forgetting he was in range of the enemy. The attack of opportunity of the black swordsman ends its life.

"**1v1 me, whiskers!" **he says to the capybara. The capybara considers this, and launches another stream of rounds instead. You narrowly dodge it.

Sharpshooter and priestess share a look from across the street. The former signals her to run.

"But what if I die?"

"We brought em' here, hafling. It's only polite we take em' out."

"Oh it's okay because I'm a halfling and expendable, right?"

Shino lets out a long sigh.

Keiko please.

"I'm so speccing into armour later," says the priestess. The halfling runs as fast as her short legs could carry across the street.

You pay attention upwards. The majority of the buildings are only single storey. The tallest building is the old bank, two storeys tall, long closed, with a fancy sign proudly displaying its purpose. It used to be grandeur, now it was just dilapidated.

The perfect sniper spot.

"AAAAAAAAAAAA!" the priestess yells, running to Sino in a zig-zag line. "That'll give me extra defense right?"

Uhh, I don't know. But you know what? I'll give it to ya.

You see it. A flash in one of the windows. The round strikes the ground. The halfling crashes into cover next to you. You take aim and fire.

\- d1

You miss.

"... oops." The sharpshooter looks at her comrade. "Uh, I'm going to need you to run across the street again."

Silica glares daggers.

**"****1v1 me, ratface!"**

The black swordsman aims for the neck and misses. Putting its weight and twisting its body, the micegunner slams the 180 pound cannon into your stomach with surprising strength and speed, throwing you a good distance away, knocking the breath out of you.

The black swordsman gets back up. **"Alright, trying again." **You rush him to attack, only to be knocked away for a second time.

""AAAAAAAAAAAA!" the priestess yells, running away from Sino in a zig-zag line.

The enemy's rifle cracks. A flash from a different window. You fire again.

\- d1

You signal the priestess again. She sighs heavily.

The priestess runs. The sharpshooter misses. The swordsman gets back up, only to be knocked back down. The priestess runs again, the sharpshooter misses again. The swordsman gets back up, only to be knocked back down again.

"Dice Gods, here my prayer. I'll light up an incense for you, just this once, if you get me through this," Silica says, plotting her heresy.

"Can I roll to check my gun?"

You don't find anything particularly wrong about it, other than it's a bit dirty.

"**I. Will. Hit. You."**

Maybe you guys should change tactics.

"No," they all say.

This continued for another six rounds.

"You know what? I stand right in the middle of the street."

Silica, you _will _be incapitated if you get hit. Bullets will go through your shield.

"My faith is my shield."

That's not how religion works.

Sino muses over this. "You know what? I follow her and hide behind her, so I can get a better shot."

I've heard dumber ideas but as long as _something _happens, okay. Kazuto, what's your plan?

"**I throw my axe at the bastard."**

That thing is stupid heavy and your Ranged Skill is nonexistent.

"**I DO IT ANYWAY."**

Alright, ready your dice.

The round begins. Silica stands in the middle of the street, Sino follows behind. The shield is far too small to cover both of you. There is movement in one of the windows, something pokes out of it.

"I roll to sho-"

"No, wait! Wait for the flash!" argues Silica.

"You'll get hit."

"I can take it!"

With your left hand, you lift your greataxe and ready a throw. It is far too heavy to lift with a single hand. Your Ranged Skill is abysmal. You summon all your attribute points to hit it.

Roll a d10.

\- d1

\- d1

\- d1

The riflemouse's bullet shatters your shield, hitting the priestess right in the stomach, downing her instantly. Sino aim her own gun at the flash, and hits the wall next to it.

With a grunt and a prayer to the Dark Gods, you, the mighty black swordsman, lob your axe at the enemy. It falls without applause at the capybara's feet. Instead of bashing like usual, it revs its spincannon and mows you down with a hail of gunfire, multiple bullet holes riddle your body.

The second round begins. The enemy shooter nails Sino right in the shoulder. All of you are in negative health.

Silence envelope the living room. Keiko breaks it.

"Well … fuck."


	5. Chapter 5

**Date posted: 22nd October 2019**

* * *

**CHAPTER V**

When you awake, it is now day. All three of you find yourselves in a corner of the bar, bandaged up, salves and herbs applied to your wounds. It is late afternoon and the town for the most part is empty save for the bartender and two eternal customers. You still have your gear but they are badly damaged, and the artefact of power is absent, much to the priestess' annoyance.

The old town doctor that lived aways away tends to your wounds. His doctor's bag with its medicine and tools are laid out on a table.

"Bless Pina, we aren't dead!" exclaims the priestess as she does the sign of the dragon.

"Ugh, well we'll be most fortunate," says Sino, sitting up on her cot.

The black swordsman tries to move but can't. His leathers were replaced by bandages giving him an apperance of a mummy. His sword hangs off by the side of the cot.

"**Give me your best potion, medicine man. I will have my vengeance!"**

The doctor shakes his head. "Well let's see here: the lady priestess have three broken ribs (-30 to Initiative), the lady dwarf has a split shoulder (-50% ranged/melee skill), and you, sir have almost died and are completely riddled with bullet wounds (-70% HP). It's almost as if fate willed you not to die."

"Fate has other destinies for us," Silica says sagely.

I just didn't want to redo this whole session with new characters.

"What do we do now?" asks Sino.

A stranger enters the tavern, clad in fine scale and mail. Mace and saber hang from his belt, a recurve on his hip, and a rifle across his back. He carries his helm under an armpit. From the silver star across his chest, you recognise this man instantly. He is one of the Emperor's Sipahi, a knight of the empire.

The newcomer nods at the stranger and the doctor leaves the room. He says to you in a tone that commands armies, "We received word of some peculiar incident that occurred last night. Can one of you tell me what in God's name happened?"

"**I will tell him all about it,"** says the swordsman.** "I do so in a way that impresses him, so maybe he gives some money for new gear, in my quest to destroy the capybara so I may offer its spine to the Guts God."**

What makes you think you can just chat to a knight and expect him to just give you money?

"**Who dares wins, GM."**

Alright, roll a die plus your Fellowship attribute.

\- d3 + 21

You explain the events of the night before in great detail. It's as if you retold the tale like a grand adventure of grit, wits, and steely might. A chosen of the Dark Gods, a priestess of the Dragon and a wayfarer dwarf banding together to fight evil for gold or glory.

What you actually espoused was something akin to a five year old in kindergarten regalling the story to their parents on how one of the kids in class bump into you, you both got into a fight, cried a lot, and the teacher had to deal with all of this. The last part began in the middle, the middle part began first, and the first didn't begin at all. It took you ten minutes to do this.

"**Oh, and we all met at this tavern. Oh I forgot, but I should also mention that those two were with me while this all happened. So what I'm saying is, give me money and weapons and I will ask my god to spare your soul when we conquer the world, man of the empire."**

The sipahi remains unimpressed at this tale. He turns to the others in the room. "Can one of _you _tell me what in God's name happened?"

It did not take long for both Silica and Sino to recount the tale. It took them two minutes.

"I see. So not only have you failed to solve the undead problem, you've stumbled onto another problem that may even be more dangerous?"

"What do you mean? And who you be, manling?" asks Sino.

"I am Knight Nasir of the Emperor's Sipahis, 4th Company, investigating reports of necromancy in the area. I was told that the Temple of Pina was dealing with this and thought to lend a hand. But it seems to me I was too late, and had to put down the rest of the cemetary's un-alive inhabitants."

"What are you talking about, sayyid? We solved the problem yesterday!" says Silica.

"Oh, and could you explain the twenty other undead I just finished putting to rest an hour ago?" he says patting his mace. "Your priests have not yet arrived to cleanse the area, so I had to do it myself."

"**But we killed the micemen!"**

"Were they behind the undead?"

"Yes!" you all say with conviction.

A moment passes. "Yes ….?" you all say with less conviction.

"Did you see anyone else in mausoleum besides the micemen?"

Sino answers, "No, other than shopkeeper that was captured. The manling that runs the general store."

"You mean the one that moved out of town three months ago?" says the bartender at the counter.

Another silence. Keiko breaks it again with the same curse.

The sipahi places a map onto the torso of the black swordsman, using him as an impromptu table.

"We believe that the man you encountered was the necromancer known as the Elusive One. He has been hunted for the last few years by the empire." He points to a few red X's marked on the map, most of which were cities. "We had him cornered at Anadakent a few weeks ago, only to have him slipped from our grasp. Imperial intelligence suspects he is making his way out west. Very far west. We believe his allies are there, plotting to do more harm."

"The Wastelands," says Sino. It is a harsh land filled with monsters, mutants, and worse.

"Yes, the accursed deserts of millenia of war. The perfect place for a practitioner of the dark arts. The Empire is strained, we have no manpower to hunt him ourselves. You three however ..."

The priestess objects. "Wait, you're not saying we're going to …"

The sharpshooter takes this in stride. "Well, a job worth doing is worth doing well. A dwarf is true to her word."

The swordsman wiggles in his cot. **"Whathisface owes me money! I'll kill him for free! (But money would still be nice)"**

The sipahi puts away his map. "Have any of you ever fought Orcs?"

* * *

**So ends the first session of FTO.**

**Now I'm not so sure when the next session will start, but there will be another player. The three choices will be: Asuna, Argo, Klein.**

**I'm not 100% sure what their classes will be but I do have a rough idea. You can even suggest what classes they can be, as long as they make sense within this totally original and not ripped off universe, of course. So leave a review, and if you put in a convincing argument I might consider putting them in. Or you can choose to argue for the current three, whichever works. I'm going to be returning to my old stuff after this.**

**Thanks for the reviews, follows and favs. Until next time.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Date posted: 1st October 2020**

**Thanks to Tigercry for beta'ing!**

* * *

CHAPTER VI

You wake up to the sight of infinite sand. It stretches before you in all directions like an ocean without water. The sun breaches heralding a new day. The fire of yesternight burns still. Your tents are the only structures for miles to come. You smell the cooking of meat - breakfast.

You are in the Wasteland.

You have been travelling west for the past week on sturdy camels. Gone is the gloom of the east, replaced by the heat of the west. Escorting you is Knight Nasir of the Emperor's Sipahis.

You have one quest before you: To hunt down the Elusive One.

"**Who?"**

The necromancer. You know, the one who you thought was the shopkeeper.

"Honestly, it doesn't ring a bell," says Sino.

The person you saved in the catacombs. You thought he was caught by the micemen and you accidentally almost destroyed an entire town ...

"We would never do such a thing!" says Silica.

"Look, it's been a while since the last session," says Sino.

It's only been a week.

"**Honestly, it felt like a year."**

"And I wasn't even there!" says the newcomer.

Okay, thats fair. Let's do a brief recap.

Nasir sits cross legged, munching on a kebab. He began, "This is the Wasteland. There are as many horrors in this land as there are grains of sand. Water is scarce, villages come and go, and cannibalism is the local delight. It is a land of the Cursed Empire, back when mages ruled the world with their foul necromancy. For all we know, there could be undead under us right now."

Silica gasps, "Are you gonna put undead dinos-"

Silica you've asked me that twice, no.

"- Aww." The cleric pouts.

The sipahi continues, "Reports from imperial spies say the Elusive One is planning to supplement his horde of undead with orc warriors. They are a mighty people these orcs - bold in battle, masterful with their blades, disdainful of outsiders. Together they are a force to be

reckoned with, separate they are can be bribed, manipulated, and played off each other. You'll need a silver tongue to deal with them.

The closest settlement is half a day's ride from here called Qatif. Meet your contact there, they'll be at the inn."

The chaos warrior stands up, his black blade in hand. **"And what if we refuse, dog of the Emperor?"**

"Why are you asking now, instead of the two weeks it took to get us here?" asks the sipahi.

Sino sighs. "Swordsman-san, are you really gonna fight the NPC right now. I have class tomorrow."

"**Silence, dwarf! I never agreed to this plan! This dog demands that we obey his every whim! Oh, and that's Black Swordsman-san to you!" **

Look Kazuto, I'll give the group a real fight later, okay?

"**1v1 me now, dog of the emperor!"**

Nasir shrugs, "Well, if you insist."

Both of you stand a ways away from your camp. The sipahi readies his mace. The cleric and sharpshooter both roll their eyes.

You point your black blade at the sipahi. **"I am the Knight of Chaotic Rage, Invincible Nightmare, Glorious Evil. You will die by my hand."**

"Oh, so you're the Knight of Cringe?" asks the sipahi.

"Do you really call yourself that?" asks the newcomer.

"**Huh, now I remember why I stopped calling myself that. Anyway, I roll to attack!"**

You roll a 3.

You miss by a mile. The sipahi does not attempt to block, nor to parry. He does not even move from his spot. Now he turns to you, mace held high.

"**Wait, what level is he again?"**

Nasir is level 15. You are level 3.

"**That's not fa-" **you didn't finish what you were about to say as a mace +5 slams into your face. You fall like a sack of bricks, unconscious.

The knight lifts you up and places you on your camel.

"Where was I? Ah yes, make contact with the spy and find the Elusive One. Try not to bring the wrath of the orcs on us, and don't get eaten. Do this, and the empire will pardon you. Do we understand each other?"

The sipahi returns to the east. The dwarf, halfling and unconscious human leaves for west.

The sun shines mercilessly on you. In the distance you see images of ruins, they apperad too close, and too far? You can't tell. The mirages make fools of men, and none of you are experienced enough to tell the difference. Not when your camels and the waterskins on them are the only things keeping you alive.

You reach the town when the sun dips the horizon. The sand turns to dirt where people tend to their crops of wheat and date palm. On one side on the farm is alfafa, grown for the little cattle they have. The farm surrounds the town, which itself is surrounded by sandstone walls. The villagers look at you with suspicion.

"**I give them the finger. For the dark gods."**

You're still unconscious.

"**Silica, give them the finger for me. For the dragon goddess Pina."**

"Should we look for the inn?" asks Sino.

You reach the town centre, there are smatterings of small homes made of sandstone and wood. The people do not talk, nor joke, nor do they laugh as they return to their homes. On one end of the town is the remains of a temple, burned down long ago. On the other end is the inn, no different from the homes save for the size and sign advertising itself.

You hand your camels to the hostler just as the Black Swordsman wakes up.

"Please try not to piss off anyone, Swordsman-san," says the priestess.

"**I promise nothing," **says the Black Swordsman as you all enter the inn.

The halfling by the reception desk gives you a key to your room. "It's the basement," he tells you. You make your way there.

You light up the oil lamp hanging by the pillar, illuminating the previously dark room. The basement is dry and bare but is otherwise tidy and spacious. There is a large table in the middle with enough beds on one side and cabinets for your gear on the other. You place your belongings on a nearby crate.

"Is this where I come in?"

Go ahead.

"Ho, adventurers!" says the newcomer with a cheeky smile. She is an elf in a standard work dress, with a mop of blonde hair and three painted stripes adorning each cheek similar to whiskers. In her hand is a tray of drinks. "I'm your contact! Knight Nasir says you need help tracking down a certain wizard …"

She is an elf with a mop of blonde hair and t

The Black Swordsman points his blade at the elf.

"**Priestess, cast Detect Evil upon this she-devil. She may work for the enemy!"**

"What?" says the elf. "I'm your contact, silly! Super spy Argo, at your service!" She gives you a mock salute.

Sino speaks up, "I apologise for our comrade here, he's just like that."

"**Quickly, priestess! Cast your spell, lest she uses her foul sorcery upon us!"**

"I literally know no magic," says Argo.

"But I didn't even take Detect Evil, and aren't you like, Chaotic Evil."

"The first thing you learn about being Evil, is that Evil is not trustworthy. I'm not Chaotic Stupid see?" The swordsman taps the flat of his sword onto his winged helmet.

Argo ignores this too. "Can we do this tomorrow, swordsman-san? I've the intel you need, unless you'd rather go running around blind?"

Sino sighs in relief. "Finally, we have a normal non-weirdo player in our group."

Argo walks to the table of the room. She calmly picks up nearby clutter, old cutlery and other knick knacks and carefully places them on the table. Suddenly she sweeps them off with her arm and places the tray on the table as well as a map.

"Sorry, I've always wanted to do that."

You all examine the map. In the middle of it is the town of Qatiff and surrounding is the Wastes, where little grow and only the hardy and the cruel survive. There are smaller villages and towns dotted about the map, as well as highlighted territories of orc warbands and the routes of nomadic tribes. There is only one notable location marked with a big circle, a large camp northwest simply titled Da Boss.

"This here be the Al-Fas Clan, headed by the Khagan 'Ead-Splita. Bane of Bedouins, Consumer of Manflesh, The Chipped Axe of Doom."

"Do we have to assassinate him?" the dwarf asks.

"Oh no, he's the nicest of the bunch. He's quite reasonable and our contact!"

"He's a cannibal!" decries the priestess.

"No, he east manflesh. Cannibals are those who eat their own species, and seeing as orcs aren't human, it's technically not cannibalism," Sino argues.

"Well if you died and we ate your flesh you wouldn't have a problem with that?" says Silica.

"I didn't say I would be okay with it, I just said it wasn't cannibalism."

"**If you think about it,"** the Black Swordsman says,** "cannibalism is a pretty efficient way of not wasting meat."**

"What, you never heard of prion disease?" says Argo.

"**Well, we just don't eat the brain …"**

"That doesn't make it any better!" says Silica.

This went on for twenty minutes.

"Keiko, we had chicken yesterday. You didn't complain about that didn't you?" argues the dwarf.

"What does chickens have anything to do with cannibalism?!"

"Chickens are cannibals! Chickens eat themselves! If an egg cracks on a farm they'll mob on it like the vicious velociraptors they are!" The dwarf points a finger at the priestess. "That means you're okay with cannibalism too!"

"I JUST DON'T WANT TO BE BUDDY BUDDY WITH SOMEONE WHO'S CALLED THE CONSUMER OF MANFLESH!"

OKAY. Moving on.

Argo sighs. "Look, Ead' Splitta is reasonable, at least amongst orcs. We go in, ask some questions. Maybe if we're lucky, he'll lend a hand with our quest too."

"Very well. But first, I must ask you what you can contribute to the party?"

"Must be a sneak-thief. That's what elves tend to be. Like halfings, but worse!" says Sino.

The priestess nods. "Yeah! Wait -"

"Oh I see, we're going for racial stereotypes, huh."

"You said reasonable, at least amongst orcs.

I do NOT want a repeat of last session, please.

"Anyway," Argo fishes for something in her pocket. "Does this look familiar?"

She rolls for Pickpocketing, three dice in all. From her apron, she produces an item.

"Look what we have here? This seems to be an amulet of the Dragon Goddess Pina!"

"Hey! That's personal!"

"Oh and this looks expensive; a firelock pistol? To be honest, I'm more of a knife throwing kind of gal."

"Give that back, pointy ears!"

"And this is … ugh. Argh!" Argo drops the thing onto the floor. "Why are you carrying a skull around?"

The swordsman reaches for his boney possession and returns it to his bag. **"It is an offering to the dark gods. I search the land for the finest skulls to give. The blood god is quite picky that way."**

"Whose head is that?" asks Sino.

"**It's not important."**

"You know what? I don't wanna know."

The priestess walks up to the elf and snatches her amulet back with a death glare. "Steal my stuff again and I'll smack your skull in."

"That doesn't sound very Lawful Good of you," says the dwarf.

Argo gives you a mischievous smile. "Anyway, we should go to sleep. We got lots of work to do tomorrow. I have my own room in the inn. If you have any other questions-"

The elf is promptly shoved out of the room.

The swordsman shoves a door under the handle. The sharpshooter sets her pistol on the table aimed at the door with a piece of string on the floor, a simple but deadly trap; and the priestess casts a ward on the door, greatly increasing its structural strength.

"Wow, rude," Argo says from the hallway. "So much for esprit de corps, huh guys?"

You do realise you're all supposed to work together right?

"Nothing says about sharing a room," says Sino.

Well, this is a grand start for the session.

You hunker down for the night as the cool desert night envelopes the Wastes.

* * *

**Welcome back to Fantasy Tabletop Offline everyone! Expect a chapter every week for the entire month of October!**

**Special thanks to Tigercry for beta'ing this chapter. Couldn't have done it without em'!**

**It's not Retold popular, but to those who've followed a year ago, I appreciate it. Settle in and have fun with shennanigans!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Date posted: 8th October 2020**

**Thanks to Tigercry for beta'in and being a right and propa' orc!**

* * *

**CHAPTER VII**

You crest the dune atop your sand ships, the camels moving with natural ease. There is six feet between you and the sand below. The sun shines mercilessly in the bright blue sky.

You have furnished yourself in garments appropriate to the Wastes' climate. The priestess wears mail under loose robes; the dwarf wears a broad hat on her crown; the swordsman wraps a turban around his winged helm; and the elf wears a fitting robe, thick enough to catch a blade but thin enough to feel airy. You bob up and down on your steeds as you ride through the dry sand.

A thousand yards away is the war camp of Ead' Splitta, a vast sea of tents surrounded by the orcs' infamous war wagons. They were humongous things, more of a mobile wall than transportation, with numerous guns and cannons poking out the reinforced walls. Their wheels are equally massive, big enough to not sink in the sand and wide enough they require reinforcement with steel bands. Each wagon is chained to the other, making a ringed walled settlement.

"Crude smiths these orcs," says Sino.

Argo rolls for Lore and rolls high. "You see those wagons? Orc wagons are the most dangerous things in the Wastes. Woe betide any soul who cannot outrun their wicked mobiles."

"What?" asks Silica.

"They go fast, dear."

"Ah!"

"They're so … red," the dwarf comments.

"The annals say they believe this colour gives them the power of speed," Argo explains.

"**What manner of beasts power these contraptions?"** asks the Black Swordsman. You spy no beasts of burden in any way.

As if hearing your question, a wagon sallied forth out the ringed settlement. An odd contraption, a carriage made of wiry steel with cylindrical wheels of scrap iron both front and back. You see no beast, yet it moves with incredible speed!

The wagon stops before you, gliding smoothly on the sand. You can see it is the orc inside who stops it. He merely plants his feet in the ground to halt the wagon. The massive orc behind the steering wheel wears a tunic made from the pelt of a tiger with a heavy metal helmet; clothes completely unfit for the climate.

He exits his wagon. The orc stands seven feet tall, even hunched. A bone club the size of a human limb snuggles nicely in his belt.

"We saws ya from a 'ile away. Watchu want, squishies?"

"We're here to gab wit' Ead' Splitta, ya dumb nob," says the elf.

The orc looks at you suspiciously and suddenly an oil lamp lights above his head as he remembers something. "Oh, we heard al' ya. Follows me, and don't make no eye contact with the ladz. They always be itchin' for a good scrappin'."

From your height in the saddle, you see the orc placing his feet into a pair of stirrups. They are perpendicular to each other, connected to the wheels to the back wheel with a series of rods and pistons. He steps on the pedals using his own body, powers it, then It accelerates, throwing a huge cloud of sand into the air, and off he goes!

Your party, save the dwarf, are in awe of such technology.

"It's not that impressive," says Sino.

You ride on towards the settlement, having trouble catching up to the orc's wagon. A literal meat gate stands before you. With a half a dozen orcs in black scrap armour stand guard acting as the gate. Ugly iron scutums and spears with misshapen heads are held tightly in their meaty fists. Goblin gunners look over the edge of their wagons. The biggest of the orcs speaks up:

"A squat, a squirt, a squirrel and a spikey boy walks into an orc camp. Why'z dat, Fred?"

"Git outda da way, nob'ead. We 'ave a meetin' wif da khagan."

The big orc, who stands eight feet tall, walks toward you. "Nah, I'z don't fink so. We'z shudn't let a buncha squishies meet da khagan. Only da bestest and da 'eanest shud be allowed ta' see da khagan."

He steps towards the priestess, who stands a mere 3'5 feet tall. Even with the orc squatting down, the halfling barely reaches chest height.

"Your breath smells," says Silica.

"Tanks! I hadn't hada wash in da' last two years!"

The orc driver, now known as Fred rolls his eyes. "C'mon now, Barney. We ain't got da time ta

'ess around."

"Dat'z where yer wrong, Fred. There's alwayz time ta 'ess around."

The Black Swordsman says, **"I know what you want, greenskin. You want a fight."**

Barney lets out a guttural laugh. "Da spikey one knowz what he'z talkin about. Aye, dat'z right, spikey boy. Beat me, and Ima tell da boyz ta let ya frough.

"Now, who'z I be fightin' today?"

"**Finally!"** The swordsman dismounts his camel and takes a stance in front of the orc. **"Face me in battle, greenskin."**

Barney nods. "A'ight, elf. Step on up."

"**Wait, what?"**

"Can do!" Argo gallops her camel a good few feet and launches off into. She soars like a bird and delivers a flying kick to the side of Barney's skull.

You roll a crit!

The sheer weight and momentum placed upon your foot is immense. His helmet falls off, his teeth shatters, and his jaw dislocates. The greenskin falling is akin to a tree being felled. His massive form buries itself into the sand, throwing a huge cloud of dust. He's out cold!

Argo lands with typical elven grace. "Well, that was easy! Unarmed Mastery for the win!"

The sharpshooter and priestess cheers while the rest of the meatgate guffaws at Barney's failure.

The swordsman drops to his knees and raises his fist to the heavens. **"Noooo! I was supposed to 1v1 him! You promised me, GM!"**

I said there would be a fight, I didn't say you would be the one doing the fighting.

Fred looks up from the crossword puzzle he was working on and puts away his spectacles. "Finally! Git back on yer rides and let's see da khagan."

You remount and follow Fred as the meatgate allows you the right to enter. You drag a sulking Champion of Chaos with you.

Groups of orcs huddle around fire pits and makeshift smiths. Most don't even spare a glance at you as you ride through the encampment, too focussed on eating, drinking, smithing or scrappin'.

You spot two orcs in loincloths going at each other with their brick fists. A small army of goblins work on a wagon at the command of their orc overseer.

As you pass a particular wooden shack, the hut suddenly explodes. The explosion is so great you have to roll to resist its deafening effects.

You succeed in resisting the effects of shellshock.

"What was that?! It looks like a blackpowder explosion!" asks Sino.

"Oh, don't worry bout' dat!" Fred hollers back, "D'at happens a dozen times a day."

"Where do you even get so much blackpowder in the first place?"

"He he. Wouldn't you like to know, squat?"

You finally arrive at the khagan's tent. The large yurt that was akin more to a large hall of a building than a mere tent. It is a patchwork of all sorts of textiles: torn linen and cloth, cattle

hides, and the skins of various monsters. Multiple trophies adorn the metal latticework of the yurt, from shiny treasures to skulls of rival orcs and the skeletons of men. If this was a form orc tapestry and architecture, you simply do not have the mindset to appreciate it.

"**How many skulls are there?"** asks the Black Swordsman.

About twenty.

"**I like this khagan,"** the swordsman says to his comrades.

Fred parks his wagon haphazardly. There is no one to care for your camels. "Just leave em' here, it'll be fine. Probably. Dey might get eaten," says Fred.

The priestess hugs the neck of her camel. "Uh, I'll cast a ward, set an alarm?"

You agree this is a good idea.

"Orcs respect strength more than anything. We need to show them who's the toughest," said the resident orc expert.

"Hey Argo, can you translate orcish for me?"

"Sure!"

"I prepare for an intimidation roll and a ranged skill roll."

The dwarf nods at the elf. She whistles at the nearest orc who is busy fixing his choppa. The orc looks up from his anvil and promptly collapses to the ground as the dwarf blows his kneecap with her rifle.

"THE NEXT IDIOT WHO TOUCHES OUR CAMELS GETS A SHOT IN THE EYE, YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

The elf massages her throat and her soft voice transforms terrifying accurately to that of the greenskin.

"DA NEXT GIT WHO TOUCHES DA CAMELS GETS A BULLET IN YA EYE, YA GET ME?!"

An orc with a bloody apron and a butcher's cleaver steps back and rounds the corner. The nearby orcs give you a wide berth.

"Maybe dere's hope for ya' squishies yet," says Fred.

You enter the yurt and are instantly assaulted with a horde of smells. Meat, mutton, smoke, oil, leather, sweat and other undesirables. There is incense on one side of the tent, piled like kindling than properly sorted with no rhyme or reason.

You are met with the court of Khagan Ead' Splitta. Twelve orcs split between the left and right, with the khagan himself in the very middle. They each sit cross legged on a raised platform before long tables, and in the middle of the tables is a roaring fire pit with a camel slowly being roasted. Goblin chefs run around feeding the fire, slathering the food with some unknowable sauce, and refilling the tankards of the orcs.

Fortunately, you see no instance of long pork.

Ead' Splitta is easily the biggest orc you've seen so far, as befitting orcish society. He sits on a hill of cushions and pillows, clad in crude but effective plates and mail. A brutish scarred face peers at you from under the turban helmet while devouring the leg of said camel with gusto and ferocity.

Hanging from a nearby pillar is the infamous Chipped Axe of Doom, the head alone almost as big as Silica and the shaft as thick as a pole of a road sign.

"Road sign? Odd choice of words," says Sino.

Look, I wrote it down two weeks ago and forgot to change it.

"I appreciate your work, GM-sama," says Silica.

Well I'm glad someone does.

Fred leads you towards the raised platform and folds his hand. "Hey boss, these squishies here wanted to talk to ya."

The khagan tears a chunk of camel leg with gold capped teeth and washes it down with a tankard the size of a small barrel. "Welcome, teeflings. So, I 'ear yer in need of my help?"

"What's a teefling?" asks Sino.

Argo whispers to the rest of you, "Orcs use teeth as currency, and teefling's their word for sellsword."

"**I'd rather be a skull-ling."**

"Shh! Be quiet and let me handle it."

The elf turns to the khagan and puts on her orc tone. "Aye, da's 'ight! Dere's a git about raisin' some skellies, makin' a real ruckus! Da emperor, the boss of the humies, he don't like this see? And he sent us to you, khagan, cause yer da biggest, and da meanest, boss 'round!"

The khagan accepts this praise graciously. "Go on den."

"He plans ta' work wif yer enemy, Ameed Skullstompa!"

"Ah, Skullstompa … I'z haven't 'eard dat name in a long while. He'z a real scrappa. I'z like to go fightin' wif 'im again."

One of the orcs at the table spoke up, "But khagan, you fought Skullstompa a week ago!"

The orc receives a camel leg in his face. "I knowz dat! Like I'z said it's been a while!"

"This is uh, a bad thing!" says Argo.

The khagan shrugs. "Fighting flighty squishies iz boring me." You assume he meant the bedouin tribes.

"If Stompa gets a few skellies, dat means more fightin' for da rest of us!" His court cheers in support and agreement.

"No, khagan! This necrogit, he plans to, may Gork and Mork forgive me, raid da tombs of past orc warlords! He plans to plunder Golgotha!"

At the mention of this, the yurt is filled with shouts and angry hollering. Accusations of blasphemy and desecration and 'being a real dick' are thrown about.

Silica makes a Religion roll. You learn that Golgotha is where all greatest orc warlords are entombed. A secret holy site known only to orcs, more specifically their shamen. Any and all aspiring boss makes a pilgrimage to reach this site and acquire the blessings of their ancestors.

The khagan smacks one of his commanders with the flat of his axe. The weight is enough to crack the commander's helmet, bringing the yurt to a silence. "And yer tellin me this why?"

"So we can stop the dick'ead and put im' da ground all propa' like! He'll subvert yer authority and dat ain't no good!" argues Argo.

"Wait, why do we have to do it? We could just let the orcs do it," whisper Sino.

"Yes, better to let the orcs fight amongst themselves then get dragged into it," Silica whispers back.

Look, do you guys want to play the game or not?

"Fine," the two say.

The black swordsman speaks up,** "If I don't get into a fight soon I'll duel the khagan myself."**

Argo hurries up. "We need ye'r permission to enter dis' holy site, khagan. But we'z don't know where it is! Tell us, and we can give da necrogit a righteous krumpin'!"

The khagan nods and thinks. "I must consult my staff. Scuse' me."

You and Fred exit the tent.

For the next two minutes, all you can hear growling, yelling, and the sound of metal striking metal. An orc screams.

You re-enter. The orcs are all where they were except all are bloodied and one was missing an arm.

"We'z come ta an anragement."

You get on Fred's cart blindfolded, new gear in your packs, heading towards the fabled Golgotha.

* * *

**Originally I was intending to give the orcs a upper crust, high society, Victorian-style accent but the standard football hooligan' accent is too iconic to replace.**

**Onwards to Golgotha, next chapter!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Date posted: 15th October 2020**

**Thanks to Tigercry for beta'ing!**

* * *

**CHAPTER VIII**

You ride for who knows how many hours in the back of Fred's wagon. The trip is smooth, unlike riding on the back of a camel. The smell however is terrible.

The wagon stops and Fred gives you the go ahead to remove your blindfolds. You do so and are greeted with a sight that takes your breath away.

Golgotha greets you with its magnificence, a necropolis deep in the Wasteland, known only to the clerics of Gork and Mork. It is a large earthen basin surrounded by mountains, filled with sprawling mausoleums, crypts, pyramids, made of impressive stonework and radiating holy significance.

Such a settlement rivals the shining cities of the Empire, both the new and the old. How the greenskins could have hidden such an impressive resting place is beyond you. Perhaps they are more cunning than you expect them to be.

It is a holy city and its prized citizens are its honoured dead.

"Isn't Golgotha the place where Jesus was crucified?"

Look, I just think the name sounded cool.

"This city could fit a hundred dead dinosaurs!"

For the last time Silica, I'm not putting in the damn dinosaurs.

Your orc driver performs a solemn gesture across his chest, overwhelmed by piety. A tear drops from his eye.

You all take in the sight.

Finding the Elusive One is going to take a while.

"What's the plan?" asks Silica.

You huddle around a particular large map provided by Fred and the sheer complexity of the area is intimidating. Fred helpfully narrows down the huge graveyard to certain spots where you assume the necromancer will be at.

They are all tombs of ancient orc warlords who led mighty Waaghs across the known world. It was only thanks to the machinations of Chaos, the wisdom of elves, the stubbornness of dwarfs and the jihads of the Empire that the green tides were stemmed.

A crushing defeat had lead the orcs to return to their infighting, again and again. Not unlike the rest of the civilised world, when you think of it.

Sino's know-how with Cartography, Argo's rolls with Academia on orc history, Silica's general knowledge on Religion, and with Fred's assists rolls, allows for more accurate pinning down of the necromancer's goals.

"**What about me?" **asks the Black Swordsman.

Remind me of your non-combat skills again.

"**I want to roll for Intimidate!"**

And who are you intimidating?

"**The orc, of course!"**

"But Fred's helping us with the map," says Silica.

"**Torture?"**

Orcs are quite resistant to torture, being part fungi and all, and Fred's helping you.

"**Swim."**

Swimming.

"**Yes. Swim."**

How so?

"**The desert is an ocean, but like, with sand. Therefore, I should have some knowledge on the geography!"**

I fail to understand your logic.

"**Camels are ships of the desert and the desert is the ocean. It makes sense."**

"It really doesn't," says everyone at the table.

"**Can I intimidate the map so it'll cough up information?"**

"Why didn't you use your Intimidate back when we wanted the camels to not get eaten?" asks Silica.

"**GM, you should have told me!"**

I am not responsible for you forgetting your own skill repertoire.

You gather around the map again and have narrowed it down to three separate spots, the tombs of the three great warlords. With their revival, they would be a force to be reckoned with. From what the sipahi told you of the necromancer, he could only revive so many champions for his cause.

"I'll be stayin' around, make sure none of ya'z try ta escape. Can't have the location of Golgotha slip out for the non-orcs. Ya' understand." With that, Fred pedals off into the distance.

You steel yourselves for the task ahead of you. You did not come unprepared. You have enough rations with you to last a week and even brought new gear with you.

Before you departed, with the khagan's permission, you perused the orc smiths for whatever you could get your hands on to aid in your quest. None of the orc equipment are fit for your hands and body, seeing as the shortest orc is at least six foot eight and three hundred pounds of muscle.

Yet the khagan did not lack equipment for non-orcs. There had been a small hill of discarded equipment near the smithies, taken from many battles against the bedouin tribes, unfortunate caravans, and the odd ransacked border fortress.

It took half an hour of washing and a bucket of linseed oil to get all the blood out of the gear. You try not to think about what happened to the items' previous owners.

"Maybe they got eaten," Sino opined.

"Shut up," says Silica.

True to her previous promise, the priestess finds herself wearing segmented plate armour over her mail shirt and a heavy greathelm. She wields a large iron shield and a wicked flail. The image of such a heavily armoured halfing is sure to strike fear into the heart of the enemy.

Argo finds herself a bandolier of well-crafted goblin throwing knives, as well as padded mail mittens. The Black Swordsman now wears thick silk jacket over his black leathers.

It is bright pink but the swordsman assures the others he pulls it off.

The sharpshooter … uh, you're not lugging that around are you?

"Yes, I am."

It's classified as Very Heavy so you're significantly slowed down if you carry it.

"But I added wheels on it, see!"

Fine, I'll knock it down to just Heavy. You're still in the desert with that thing.

"Ah yes, but Golgotha has to have some stone pavement somewhere."

I regret letting you roll on that random loot table.

"I'm not leaving it behind."

Fine, but you're moving slow from now on. How much a-

"Three."

I'll allow it. Silica, your armour is classified as heavy armour and you don't have the correct Proficiencies. Are you sure you want to stick to this and not go back to casting from the back?

"Pina Vult."

Alright then. Argo, you're good?

"I'm good."

Excellent.

You dive into the Necropolis, in search of the Elusive One.

* * *

It does not take long for you to find the first of Ameed Skullstompa's soldiers. A ragged banner hangs on a nearby tree with the image of a white sabaton stomping on an orc skull with group of orcs drinking grog around a campfire, bored out of their skulls.

You take your positions.

Sino snipes the biggest of them, rolls a crit and blows a fist sized hole in his chest. The elf launches a trio of poisonous throwing knives at the other orc, not killing him, but guaranteeing his death by the next turn.

The priestess jogs up to the last orc as fast as her short legs can carry beneath her heavy armour, smacking him in the knee with her flail. The Black Swordsman rushes in with his flaming blade and swings high, decapitating the head in a burst of flame.

You take no casualties in the scuffle.

"**The Dark Gods look upon us with their favour**." The Black Swordsman puts out the flaming head with a few swift stomps of his boot and puts it into his skull sack. The rest of the party loots whatever food and gold they can.

You make your way deeper into the necropolis. The gate which Fred left you at was the southern gate, the only way into the city. The rest of the city is surrounded by the mountains. There must be over hundreds of infamous orc warlords but the party has narrowed it down to three. Coincidentally, they are all on the edges of the city: in the north, east, and west.

You decide to go through the city counter clockwise.

The map given to you was old and fading, certainly not made by any orc considering on one corner of the map it says _Property of the University of Al-Mushriq. _It is also horribly outdated by about a hundred years.

An hour of walking and you find the path blocked by rubble of a collapsed tower. The dwarf and the elf scale it with some effort, thanks to their high investment in Athletics. They then drop rope to allow the hafling and the swordsman to scale it.

It took a considerable amount of effort to lift the dwarf's things.

"I'm still not leaving it behind," says Sino.

An hour passes, you encounter a few undead, none of which are orcs. They are human, elven and dwarven, clad in the gear of tomb raiders. Some were clad in the garb of bedouin tribesmen. Silica's flail, Argo's mailed fists and the burning black blade make short work of them. The dwarf reserves her ammo.

The armour and weapons are long rusted, but extra rope, shovels and some ten year old pemmican are welcomed. The sun is setting.

"We should seek shelter," says Silica.

You travel along, fighting the odd spider and undead with a distinct lack of orcs. Sino rolls high in her Outdoorsman check and finds the ruins of what appears to be an orc tavern. Not even funerals can stop an orc from drinking.

The tavern is two stories tall and lacks a roof. Sino uses her proficiencies in Engineering to ensure the place is safe and considers that it would be with some minor adjustments.

Wood is torn from the floor, the door and windows are barricaded, the debris is cleared, and one side of the tavern is ignored, deemed a safety hazard. You huddle around what should be a longue area of the tavern, sitting on stone couches far too big for you; now knowing how it is to be a halfling most of the time.

Kindle is gathered and a fire comes to life thanks to the Black Swordsman's flaming blade. You have a dinner of grilled mutton with chunks of decade old pemmican thanks to the halfling's innate bonus to Cooking. It is filling and negates the Hunger and Thirst status effects. "I'll have to keep my secret recipe for an upcoming tough battle," she says.

Silica casts a ward and Sino sets a pistol trap. A guard schedule is implemented and Argo takes first watch.

The night is uneventful. The sun only peaks behind from the surrounding mountains when you have a light breakfast and off you go.

Your first skirmish of the Skullstompas comes sooner than you expected. An orc band is patrolling and you fail to sneak around them. An orc big un' leads the charge, brandishing a spear as big as a small tree.

Sino focuses on the heavily armored big un' all the while the halfling tanks him, a tiny David vs an even bigger Goliath. She does not even attack. She merely turtles up and either waits for the dwarf to gun the orc down or for the Black Swordsman finishes the others and come to her rescue.

Halfway through the fight - goblins emerge from the ruins, peppering you with arrows and gunfire. Both the priestess and the swordsman take arrows to their back.

A volley of shots forces Sino to take cover behind her adamantly brought random rolled gear.

"We've got company!"

"On it!" says the elf.

Argo floats like a butterfly and stings like a Japanese giant hornet. She weaves and bobs, rolling well to avoid the missiles. She gets into their line, throwing kicks and punches, breaking faces and throwing goblins like ragdolls. Argo takes a single nasty gash from a thrown poison knife and doesn't hesitate to return the favour by ripping off and throwing it back at the last goblin. The goblins try to run but the dwarf guns them down.

The swordsman takes a nasty gash from the spear but the sheer damage from his flaming blade allows him out-DPS the orcs. The Black Swordsman specs himself as a Duelist, and does more damage the longer he fights a single opponent up to a point. The tree size spear catches fire and the big un' discards it. Unarmed he is still a force to be reckoned with, but the black blade is more than a match for any orc fisticuffs. The orcs fight to the last man.

You patch yourselves up with bandages and potions as the priestess conserves her Healing spells, save for one cast of Cure Poison on Argo. You move on.

* * *

You comb through the necropolis, passing over countless tombs. It is an unending graveyard of the dead and all of them are orckind's greatest warriors. There are some undead adventurers - men in rusting plate and torn gambesons, milling about, but you agree to ignore them. The XP may not be worth the cost.

As you get closer to the eastern tomb of the warlord, you feel a dark malevolence about you, like a cloud of malice washes over the city of the dead.

"I feel a dark malevolence about me, like a cloud of malice washes over the city of the dead." says Silica.

"Yes, Silica-chan. We all passed our Sense roll," says Argo.

The tomb of the first orc warlord is not the decoration you would expect from orcs. There are no crucified skeletons or skulls on pikes - the swordsman boos at this - no markings painted with blood, nary even a statue. It is a simple circular courtyard surrounded by marble pillars and mausoleum built into the side of the mountains atop a long a flight of steps.

A group of orcs stand guard with a man in black robes at the base of the stairs. There is five hundred yards between you and the orcs. You are currently huddled behind a low stone wall.

"It's Spooky Skeleton Summoner-san!" says Silica.

"Can I take a shot from here?" asks Sino.

You're too far away, you would need to get closer.

"Sino, you could use the thing you've been dragging along," says Argo.

"No, I can make this shot! We can conserve it!"

You scramble closer to the courtyard. There is little to no cover for you as the tombstones have long crumbled in the passage of time. If you are to take a shot, you would have to do it in the open. Only Sino and Argo have the skills to blend into the surroundings by going prone. The rest of the party would need to stay behind.

"I don't see why we need to stay behind," says Silica.

Silica, you're wearing enough clunky armour to wake the dead. The Black Swordsman has a burning sword and is wearing a bright pink jacket.

"**I pull it off though, right?"**

Well the bright pink is a giant "Come Stab Me!" sign yes, but I think you would prefer that.

The necromancer waves his hand in a pattern while chanting a spell in an ancient tongue. The tome in hand flips pages rapidly and the doors to the mausoleum shake in place, the tiles of its roof falling. The orcs are getting restless.

The elf and the dwarf goes prone, staying as close to the ground as possible. You crawl over dead grass, rubble, and the odd skeleton. Your rifle has a range of two hundred yards. There are four hundred hard yards left.

You go slow, too slow in fact. Your rolls are good but they need to be better. You take three turns to get closer and by then -

The necromancer is almost finished with his spell.

The orcs begin to bash their weapons against their shield, cheering on. A great bolt of energy shoots forth from the sorcerer's hand, slamming into the mausoleum.

You have one turn left.

"I'm risking it!" says Sino.

You break cover and sprint the last hundred yards. You take a knee, aim, and fire. The crack echoes throughout the city.

You nail the necromancer right in his back. He falls down, the spell dies and the tome falls to the ground.

All heads turn towards the gunshot. You are out of cover, completely out in the open. The necromancer gets up and ignores his gaping wound. He orders the orcs to charge. They didn't need the squishy to tell them to do that.

Ten orcs charge the dwarf, a green tide of axes, scraps of metal and smelly death.

"I told ya' I hit him!"

Roll for initiative.

The orcs out-initiative you.

"Well crap."

The priestess and swordsman vault over the fence, yelling for Pina and the Guts God. The necromancer grabs his tome and begins the spell again.

The first orc reaches you, mace in hand. Your rifle is far too unwieldy. You use your Pistol proficiency to proc an Attack of Opportunity. Your flintlock blasts his kneecap open, felling but not killing him. Your second pistol shot however hits its mark.

The second orc hits you with his axe, rolling high for damage.

The elf sprints after you and launches herself off a gravestone to deliver another flying kick.

However, Argo misses - and lands amongst a trio of orcs. "Uh oh."

The Black Swordsman reaches the axe-orc that wounded Sino and cuts him down with his black blade. The priestess casts Lay on Hands on the dwarf.

There are eight orcs left. The necromancer continues his spell. "We need to kill him now!" says Argo before activates Evasion.

The three orcs swing at her and each swings twice. Argo bobs and weaves in a way that would make the great brawler, Mikal Ty'Son proud.

Of the six attacks only one hits you.

Sino moves into cover and begins the process of reloading her guns, spending a turn.

Silica moves into the range of Argo and rotates her out, activates Shieldwall. The swordsman engages the nearest orc and duels with him, sword against spear.

The next few turns of melee are brutal. Argo positions herself behind the orc that is fighting Kirito and lays into him. Sino fires at the orcs at the back currently hurling javelins, and nails one in the chest. Silica puts her head down behind her shield and prays that nothing hits her, considering she had the smallest health pool of them all.

"Shoulda invested more into Wounds," Silica says as a mace slams against her shield.

Turn by the turn, the orcs are defeated. The swordsman comes to Silica's rescue and when the heat is off the priestess, she starts swinging her flail. The last to die is the last javelin thrower, courtesy of a neck snap from Argo.

You are badly hurt and start the process of healing yourself. "Should have used your thing there, Sino," says Argo.

"Fools!" the Elusive One yells, reminding you that he was still alive. "With the champions of orckind under my command, the world will be mine!"

You sprint towards the necromancer. The dwarf loads another round but it is too late! The spell is finished. The doors to the mausoleum flies off its hinges, down the stairs.

The orc warlord emerges from his tomb, all eight feet of him. His bones are yellow but solid with strength, red eyes burn in his massive skull and his golden tusks shined in the sun. His long black hair still clutches to his scalp. He wields a simple but massive broadsword in his fist. His frame is powerful, despite being skeletal, and the warlord is covered with only a loincloth made of black dragonscales.

Hitcher came Krogan the uncivilised; black haired, crimson eyes, blade in hand; a sneak, raida', a killa', with gigantic gloom and gigantic glee, to tread the golden thrones of the earth under his armoured feet - once again!

"By Pina's scaly ass!" the priestess curses under her breath.

The undead warlord looks at the scene before him and says, "What the devil is going on?"

* * *

**So did you guys hear that Netflix is trying to make a Conan show?**

**I think of the current chapters, this is the least humourous. It comes off as a very dungeon divey chapter, so I would appreciate if you folks tell me if the humour is sufficient, insufficient, or the like. I'm all for the action, but the humour should take center stage. Feel free to throw in ideas or things you'd like to see more of.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Date posted: 22nd October 2020**

**Not even bad random encounters can stop Tigercry from doing excellent beta'ing!**

* * *

**CHAPTER IX**

A tense silence follows as the warlord surveys the destruction before him. The necromancer seems giddy in delight.

"Is this someone we should know?" asks Sino.

Argo rolls for Lore. She begins to explain:

"Krogan the Uncivilised is a legend known throughout the world. Born in the hills far north of the Wastes, he became a renowned boss when he led a Waaagh on the fortress of Alhudud at a young age. After the sacking, wanderlust overtook him, and he travelled throughout the known world as both a saviour and menace alike.

"Krogan became a thief in distant Zhonghua, a chief of the Fleethoofs in Pashtunstan, a pirate in the Green Sea, a teefling in numerous kingdoms of man, elf and dwarf alike. It was not until he returned late to the Wastes at a later time did he defeat the mightiest warboss there, the infamous Grokhstar, and became its leader. Where he would later wage numerous attacks on the Eastern realms of Man. No one, not even the might of the Empire nor the dwarves of the mountains could withstand his wrath.

"Some say he died to an Assassin's blade," Argo grins. "Others say it was to jealous rivals. Regardless of the method of his death he died leaving his kingdom prosperous and strong."

"Wow, Argo-san. Did you really memorise all of that for the campaign?" asks Silica.

"Oh no, I read it from this PDF excerpt the GM sent me," she says, holding up her phone. "GM, your lore dumps are way too long."

Well maybe you shouldn't have chosen Lore as a skill.

The necromancer kneels before the skeletal orc. "Great King Krogan, I have awoken you from your long slumber! With you under my command, and the other two warlords whom I would later resurrect and the cooperation of Ameed Skullstompa, we will rule the world!"

Krogan the Uncivilised, blinks and glances at the necromancer, as if only noticing him." It is you who resurrected me from my death?" he asks, his voice deep and rumbling with the power of a mighty king.

"Indeed, it is I who - " the necromancer did not finish his answer as he narrowly avoided death as the orc's massive broadsword is thrown, embedding itself into the cobblestone floor.

"Fool! I was there, fighting gloriously in the afterlife in the service of Gork and Mork, and you take that away from me! I will tear you apart little man, before I return to my eternal Waagh with my gods!"

The orc jumps down the stairs and lands like a great panther. He sprints, boney fist ready to punch the necromancer's head off. His fist stops mid-punch as the wizard's powers flow through him.

"O Great King, know that it is I who command you, and not the other way! For my first order, I demand you to slaughter these third-rate adventurers!"

"Hey, we're at very least second-rate adventurers!" says Argo.

"Kill them!"

"**Bossfight!Bossfight!Bossfight!Bossfight!"**

Krogan the Uncivilised, reaches for his broadsword. His face is scrunched in hatred as he prepares to do the sorcerer's bidding.

"But he doesn't have a face, how can you tell his face is scrunched in hatred?" asks Sino.

"Yeah, and how did he blink with no eyelids?" asks Silica.

The biology of orc biology is beyond your understanding.

You all roll for Initiative. Wow, good rolls. You all go before Krogan does, except the swordsman who goes last.

"**Leave the big guy to me," **says the Black Swordsman with giddiness.

Sino goes first. What do you do?

"I shoot the necromancer."

You shoot him, same spot as the last time. Whatever spell that protected him before doesn't seem to be working.

"I nail him with my knives," says Argo.

You throw them, all three sticking into him like a porcupine and the poison does its work.

"I run up to him and smack him with my flail."

You clink clank your way there and whip your chained ball, hitting him in the knee, bringing him down to ... dangerous low health.

Well, damn. I didn't have a plan for this.

The necromancer snarls in pain. Realising he was but a single dice roll away from death, he casts another spell. Smoke erupts from where he stands, but as it dissipates, you realise he is gone! It must be a teleportation spell of some kind!

"That's an asspull, GM," says Sino.

No, it's a solid backup plan shut up.

"**There's still the orc, you know," **says the swordsman.

You ready yourselves to fight the orc. He ch-

"Wait, wait!" says Argo. "According to the Game Master's book-"

I can't believe a player read the Game Master's book.

"Hush. Anyway, a necromancer has to be within a certain range to control their thralls. And since he's gone, he should be losing control right?"

Well … yes.

Yet the orc is still standing, and has not collapsed into a pile of bones.

Krogan drops to a knee, exhausted. "Hells, I have forgotten the slave collar of weirdkraft. You have my thanks, strangers. Pray tell, what year is it?"

"It's 2020," answers Silica.

"No, I think he means the year in-game," says Argo.

It actually is 2020.

"Well that's a nice coincidence!" says the elf.

"**What? No no no no no no!"** The Black Swordsman stomps his feet like a small child.** "We were supposed to engage in an epic duel! It would be a battle worthy of the Guts God's favour!"**

"It's good to know you still have that single player mentality there, Kirito," says Shino.

The orc warlord turns to you, red eyes bright, but not as blazing as before. "I've no quarrel with you, Champion of Chaos. I've a quarrel with the wizard who claimed my soul from the afterlife. I'll hunt him down and cut him like the squig he is!"

The halfling raises her hands. "We should team up!"

"**What?"**

What?

"The wizard is the BBEG. We should join forces and we'll have a better chance to stop him!" says Silica.

"I can't argue with that," says Argo with a smile.

The dwarf sighs but lowers her rifle. "The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

Definitely should have given the wizard more health. Er, roll for Charisma.

"I got a 17!" says Silica.

Damn. Fine, Krogan the Uncivilised joins your party! Hold on, I need to convert his NPC sheet to a PC one.

The swordsman stands before Krogan, flaming blade pointed at his chin.** "Wait, he could still be under control of the necromancer! He could still be a danger to us!"**

"I am still animated by the wizard's magic, but I do not feel his arcane strings upon me," says Krogan.

Silica rolls for Arcana. "The more a necromancer controls a body, the less of a mind the cadaver possesses. What's the point of resurrecting a great mind if the mind cannot be used properly?"

The orc nods. "The priestess speaks sensibly."

"**Well - I challenge you to a duel! Come at me, greenskin!"**

"Is he always like this?" asks Argo.

"Unfortunately, yes," says the other two girls.

"10 gold on the orc," says Argo.

"You're on," say the girls.

Krogan considers your request with a thoughtful expression. "I accept."

"**Good! Now draw your sword!"**

The massive orc merely folds his boney arms over his ribbed chest. "No."

"**You accepted my duel!"**

"I did."

"**Then fight me," **he says through gritted teeth.

"Win or lose, I would return to the afterlife. The only reason I do not fall upon my own sword is because I find such a thing reprehensible and I would much prefer to snap the necromancer over mine own knee. So bid your blade, swordsman. I fear not to return to my kin and my gods."

The swordsman readies his dice to attack … but doesn't roll. **"This is no fun. Fine! We'll go kick some wizard ass."**

"Ah well, no gold for me then," says ARgo.

Sino consults the map. "The closest orc tomb is a day's plus of travel in the northern part of Golgotha."

"Then let us make haste," says Krogan, sheathing his blade. "Lead the way, squat girl."

Off you go, to find the other tombs before the necromancer does.

And why doesn't everyone go grab some pizza or something, I need to rebalance the mob scaling.

* * *

After a quick consumption of pizza, the party travels to their next destination. The extra man- (orc?) power allows you to travel quicker than usual. He even carries Sino's heavy gear on him, much to the dwarf's delight.

You encounter numerous orcs, working in tandem with goblins and undead. With good rolls and smart tactics, you make quick work of them. Krogan's broadsword, still sharp after centuries of being entombed, sings a song of death as he cuts through his enemies. The blade is as long as a greatsword, but in his massive fist it is no different than the swordsman's own black blade in comparison.

Krogan and the Black Swordsman work in tandem to cut down a particularly tough big 'un. Your fighting styles are eerily similar - lightly, or in Krogan's case none at all, armoured, with a bastard sword in hand and a lust for battle.

The skeletal warlord flicks the orc blood off his blade. "Well fought, champion."

"**Save your compliments orc, I'll not take any from the likes of you!"** the swordsman grumbles from behind his black winged helm.

Silica mutters under her breath, "Now we have two racists in our party."

"I'm not a racist, Silica," says Sinon.

"Don't you have a feat called Favorite Enemy?"

"It's called Favoured Enemy but yes."

"And it's specifically designed to do damage to a specific enemy type."

"I see where you're going with this."

"Therefore, you have one that does extra damage agains Orcs!"

"No … my Favoured Enemy is aimed at Undead. You know, the dead people."

"Oh, so you're ableist too!"

The dwarf lets out a long sigh. "Oh my God …"

The trek takes longer than you expected, even with the map and Krogan's knowledge of the terrain who has changed long after entombment - "There used to be a shopping mall here," he tells you - and the group after group of enemies only proves to slow you down. You fear that you may not make it in time before the next warlord is awakened and enthralled.

Alas, night has fallen upon Golgotha once again. You vote to make camp nearby an artificial basin. The water flows still from nearby pipes and you spy fish in the depths. Krogan comments on the ingenuity of orc plumbing with some sense of pride.

You set up camp behind a pile of rubble and a tarp that encloses the camp so as to provide cover. Water is boiled, fished are speared by swords, and bedrolls are laid out. The fish are fat things, and you wonder what ecosystem allows them to grow so big. The orc deigns to not eat anything what with the whole lacking a stomach thing.

Argo, ever the seeker, speaks to the warlord. "Krogan, there must be an interesting tale or two of your many adventures. Tell us of the old times."

"Very well. What do you wish to know?"

Silica speaks up, "Why are you called the Uncivilised?"

Sino nods. "I was wondering that too. You appear to be a lot more civilised than your fellow orcs."

Wow, Shino. Upping the racism, huh.

"Oh not you too."

"I see this is becoming a trend. Very unfortunate," says Argo.

"Argo!"

Krogan continues, "Wherever I travel, they see me as a savage greenskin. When I am in the company of fellow orcs, they see me as tainted by the loftiness of civilisation. Either way, to both, I am considered uncivilised. When I became a warboss myself, they were quick to stop to refer to me as such. But legends still linger I suppose, and they do not go away even with the passage of time."

"You also talk weird," says the swordsman while reheating his fish on the flat of his sword.

"You got any tips in dealing with weirdkfraft?" asks the elf. "I heard you've fought many a sorcerer in your travels."

At the mention of magic, Krogan's red eyes grow just the slightest bit brighter. "I do. Let me tell you how to deal with the weidkraft."

Krogan tells you a tale of how when he was but a brash youth, he climbed a wizard's tower to steal a jewel of great worth. The tale is difficult for even you to believe.

A walled garden of tigers?

An alien being with the body of a man and the head of an elephant?

The evil wizards that shrinks in size and gets squished and the tower crumbles to nothing?

"**GM, have you been smoking drugs,"** asks the swordsman.

I don't do drugs, Kirito. Anyway, you now do +2 damage against all magic users.

The party hurrahs at their new power.

Krogan gazes at the moon, hidden behind the clouds. "It is late, squishies, allow me to take watch for the night for I require no sleep. I suspect we'll have an even more dangerous battles tomorrow."

* * *

It is dawn again as you pack up your camp and make haste. True to his word, Krogan suffers no Exhaustion penalty at all.

Curiously, you encounter no enemies on your warpath.

You see your destination before you arrive at it: the mage's tower, belonging to a certain weirdboy - the term orcs call their wizards. Krogan knows not any of the warlords buried in Golgotha, for he was the first.

The mage's tower stands three hundred meters tall. It is a criss-cross of steel and joints of metal bars resting on four massive pillars, a railroad bridge standing upright. It was not like a stone tower, circular and solid. No, it was more like a jumble of steel beams, stretched tall like a cone, a pyramid with the wrong proportions. The only room is at the very top, no doubt where the wizard is laid to rest. It is easily the tallest structure in the necropolis that wasn't carved into the mountain itself.

The amount of metal in its construction could craft twenty thousand rifles, outfit ten thousand Sipahis and their horses or create a hundred of the Emperor's Dardanelles bombards.

Despite none of you being wizards, you are utterly offended at the non-traditional design of the tower. It must be something only an orc can appreciate.

"I'm an orc and I think it's horrible," says Krogan.

You get closer to the tower, and already you find a small contingent of orcs and undead milling about the yard. There are some two dozen orcs, even more of Ameed Skullstompa's, and all are better geared and better armed than any other orc you've faced before. You see no sign of the necromancer at all, but the top room of the tower glows a bright green light even in the bright sunny day.

Argo rolls for Lore and comes up short.

"Well crap, I don't know what weirdboy this is," says the elf, "but if he's chosen this one to be resurrected, we're pretty screwed if we don't do something."

"How are we gonna get up there?" asks Silica.

"We don't," says Sino, unveiling the thing she's been hauling for half the session.

" …**. Well, are you gonna tell us or not?"** asks the swordsman.

"Yeah, you two have been pretty tight lipped about the whole thing. This whole adventure has only been portrayed through words over a table, you don't even have a mini to show for it," says Silica.

"What's the chances for me to hit the top of the tower up there?" asks the dwarf.

Pretty good odds, really with your high Ranged Skill.

"Alright, here's the plan …"

* * *

It's a well known fact that in the absence of an enemy, orcs will devolve into fighting each other to alleviate their boredom. A couple of orcs have started to krump the other.

A third was about to join when the tower above suddenly explodes in a ball of fire and magical energy. Hunks of scrap fall in flaming heaps. The orcs stand agape, before shouting and turning around to face the invaders.

"One down, two more cannonballs left," says Sino over the barrel of the smoking mortar. Your accuracy would make dwarven cannoneers proud and Empire artillerymen jealous.

"So this is the power of black powder," muses Krogan. "If only we had such technology at our disposal when I was still alive."

"Mortars are a thing in the middle ages?" asks Argo.

Firstly, it's the early modern period and yes they're a thing, and secondly, you're an elf, she's a dwarf, she's a halfling, he worships Satan, and you have an undead orc barbarian following you around.

"That's fair."

The lead orc, a big 'un in black plate with a sword as big as Krogan's bellowed a Waagh, and the others charge towards you. Roll for initiative.

The Black Swordsman, Krogan the Uncivilised and Silica the Priestess charge down to meet the enemies. Argo swings far wide around the orcs to attack from the flanks. The dwarf reserves her mortar, and takes potshots.

Javelins are thrown against the adventurers. One bounces off Silica's shield, another gets struck away by the burning black blade of the swordsman and two embed themselves into Krogan's ribs. They do minimal damage to the undead warlord, serving only to enrage him further.

Four are cut down by both swordsmen, while Silica taunts three others, their attentions turns towards the halfling. One javelineer gets shot down and another takes a couple of poisoned knives from the elf.

The melee boils down to the grindwork. Krogan faces the orc big 'un in the black plate and the two engage in a duel. While the Black swordsman takes up the attention of the big 'un's back up. The smell of orc flesh grimly smelling of burnt pork. Silica balks at the other sheer thought of cannibalism again.

A beam of light suddenly shoots forth from the top of the tower. It obliterates the orc javelineers and half of the remaining orc forces as the beam swings horizontally, blowing apart the cobblestone and turning the sand into shards of glass. The orcs, who were three quarters strong, have now shrunk to under half that number in an instant.

The orcs currently engaging you in melee forget you are even there as they throw themselves into cover, but many failed before the killing light destroys them. You all decide to do likewise and scatter for cover, fairing better than the orcs.

The beam sharply disappears anda figure flies out of the burning tower!

What is it? A bird? A dwarfcopter? Nay, it is none of that.

The flowing black robes of the necromancer can be seen even from the ground, as is the resurrected weirdboy with him, upon a flying carpet! The undead wizard has a concave mirror with him, and both he and the necromancer let out a terrible laugh as they soar over Golgotha.

It is only then Argo rolls well for Lore. "Finally, stupid dice! It's him! The orc weirdboy known as Orkimides!"

Argo is only able for a short moment to point at the pair as they fly towards the tomb of the last orc warlord.

You all come out of cover, surveying the carnage before you. The enemy has a head start, and you must move quickly. "How did they survive the mortar shot?" asks Sino.

"Orkimedes is strange, even amongst standard of orc weirdboyz. He has many a strange piece of technology on him, from belts that create a shield around them to coils that shoot out lightning. It is not a stretch he had an item of power that protected him and the necromancer," says Argo.

"There's no way we're catching up to them now," says Sino.

Silica rolls up her mail sleeves. "It seems now, I must unleash my special concoction! Quickly, I require my pot!"

A hasty cooking station is made on the spot amongst the burnt and cooked body of dead orcs. Despite the burt pork smelling air, water is boiled, the fish from yesterday is added and the salted meat you've been carrying is extracted of all its juices. Silica adds in sugar, and her secret ingredient: beans of unknown make.

Silica rolls well in her crafting and despite the good rolls, it still takes half an hour.

Finally the concoction is extracted from the pot and poured into cups. It smells vaguely of a tangy alcohol.

"What is this?" asks Argo.

"It's my secret tonic. It will give you speed beyond speed, eliminate fatigue and give you a great high. In mechanical terms, it applies Haste, negating any sort of Exhaustion penalty for the next few hours. It will allow us to travel without the nonsense of getting tired."

The swordsman examines the water suspiciously. **"What's the catch?"**

"A crash after the effect wears off. It can be pretty bad but I think the risk is worth the reward. I call it Beast. Won't work for Undead, I'm afraid."

"That is no worry for me, I do not feel fatigue as you do," says Krogan.

The party raises their cups and with a hearty "Kanpai!" downs it in a single gulp.

It tastes terrible yet the effect is almost immediate. You experience a high, and you feel you could fight a dozen orcs at once or climb the highest mountain.

The party chases after the Elusive One and Orkimides. There are two warlords left.

* * *

**If you haven't read The Tower of the Elephant you really should. It's free!**

**The chapter was pretty light without humour but my beta reader put them in there rightly. You can thank TC for Argo being very Argo. Too many characters and they get kinda lost, you know?**

**Leave a review and see you next week.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Date posted: 29th October 2020**

**Tigercry going overdrive in getting this done!**

**Note: Had to reupload twice due to bugs. You may have gotten an alert beforehand.**

* * *

**CHAPTER X**

You have been running for the last eight hours.

By the time you reach the last of the warlord's tomb, the sun is only just setting. Only the undead orc following in your party is unperturbed.

The same cannot be said of you, however.

The priestess' brewed tonic has allowed you to run without tiring for a considerable time. That time is up. You crash before the entrance of the tomb.

Other than the odd mob of zombies, you encounter no enemies. You are not Exhausted, you are Very Exhausted. The debuff you receive to your attributes and skills are immense. You are in no shape to fight.

The Black Swordsman collapses to a knee, his sword tip burying itself into the ground. "**The hell I'm not, I need to stab that necrodick."**

"Come on!" Sino uses her rifle as a walking staff to keep herself upright. "We need to stop the Elusive Douchebag!"

Silica collapses spread-eagled onto the floor, having the heaviest armour of the team has taken its toll. "P-Pina wills it …"

Argo slouches against the nearest wall. "I-I just need a little nap, and a drink. You still got some of that Beast with you, Silica-chan?"

Everyone roll for Willpower.

"**Hah! We all make it!" **says the swordsman.

Cool, now add the Crash modifier.

"**Ah shi-"**

You pass out.

When you wake up, you have been hauled behind some ruins. Krogan the Uncivilised is nowhere to be seen. The stars are out in full force, a few hours must have already passed since your collapse.

"Ah no! We might be too late!" says Silica.

"You are not," said Krogan as he turns a corner. There is a fist sized hole on his left ribs and a nasty blade is jammed to his right humerus.

"So, he finds this funny?" asks Silica.

"No Silica, the GM means the upper arm," says Sino.

"Then why didn't GM just say he got stabbed in the arm?"

You gather around the newly lit fire. Krogan tells you he began scouting while the rest of you slept. The tomb of the last orc warlord peers at you from behind your camp.

It is a massive block of black stone, as foreign to Golgotha as was Orkimedes' tower. It was just that, a giant cube, snuggled tightly into the side of the mountain with the only deformity being the double doors right in the middle.

"I entered it alone as it's quite clear you all needed the rest. I had hope to scout it at the very least, and perhaps slay the necromancer, Gork and Mork willing.

"It is dark, squishies. Pitch black. I borrowed your torch but it was insufficient. Something … attacked me, with what I could only assume is a gun. Yet, I heard no shot! But I could have sworn it was a gunshot, for it was neither arrow nor bolt that struck me. Elf, what do you know of this warlord?"

Argo rolls for Lore and rolls quite high. "Hold on, GM just sent me one of his PDFs." She puts on her reading glasses again.

"Oh yeah, this guy! I totally know him! He's pretty new I think, no longer than fifty years ago. There was an orc who was a student of the Assassins, those hired killers plotting atop their mountain fortress. Where most orcs prefer brute force, he used his kunning triks. He created a gun when shot was as quiet as the twang of a bow.

"With his skill and his special weapon, he created his own order of killers, the Deff Kommandos, and he himself its grandmaster. No one could track him down. He did die eventually, dead by an elven arrow. He died multiple times in fact. Elven intelligence assumes that the newest grandmaster is simply the new one. This particular warlord must have been the first."

"What do they call this sneaky git?" asks Sino.

Argo turned the dwarf and dramatically said,"They call him, Bigga Boss.

"Wait what? GM, this is a dumb name," she complaine

No, it's not. It's cool.

"I don't get it honestly."

"I sent you the games a long while ago!" said Sino.

"That's the thing, Sino. I don't like stealth games."

Sino made a face that was akin to someone running over her dog.

Anyway.

You turn to look back at the tomb. The black cube stares back at you, menacingly.

You prepare yourself for the upcoming battle. Dinner is consumed, armour is cleaned, blades are sharpened, and pink silk shirt patched. Krogan carries the mortar over his shoulder, already loaded, like a bazooka. He certainly has no issue in carrying it.

You have levelled up since your previous fight. Argo picks up Deflect Missile, in hopes to defend herself against this mysterious gun. Sino chooses Rifle Mastery, so as to being able to shoot her rifle at close range without penalty. The Black Swordsman chooses Extra Attack, simple but effective.

Silica rearranges her miracles and picks up Cast Light for reasons obvious plus Pina's Smite. "It's a surprise tool that will help us later," she tells the rest of the party.

The priestess says a prayer for Pina while the Black Swordsman says a dark prayer to his equally dark patrons. They would need it.

Once again, into the darkness.

* * *

"**Why isn't my sword doing anything?"**

Well you did specifically say your sword emits black fire.

"**Well yeah, it's still fire."**

Kirito, it's black fire. Black light is not conducive … to light.

"**But I'm a being of darkness, that means none of the penalty applies right?"**

Sigh.

"I got this," says the priestess. She recites a prayer and a ball of light emerges from her hand and floats above the rest of the party. It is much more powerful than any simple torch.

Of all the warlords' tombs, this is the only you've gone inside. Even the inside is made of strange black stone, the walls themselves are trying to absorb the light of Silica's orb. The atmosphere is intense, oppressive, as if the very darkness intrudes upon you.

You enter the hallway, the only one available with the swordsman leading the way. Not even a few minutes into the dungeon, you hear a click.

Kirito makes a reflex roll.

You don't make it. From beyond, missiles shoot out at you, slamming into your chest. Bolts from a hidden panel! You are hurt but alive and the priestess casts the first heal spell of the encounter.

"I'll lead the way. Us dwarves know how hostile architecture works," Sino says smugly. It is true, for the dwarf has the highest Dexterity amongst you, even more than Argo.

"Strength is a better attribute anyway," says the elf.

As Sino is the first to step through the door, there is an audible click.

A huge swinging axe emerges from the ceiling. It misses the dwarf by a foot and lodges itself into the wall. "See? I knew it was there."

The hallway continues and the dwarf is able to predict and initiate traps by her own volition. She uses a heavy rock to trigger pressure traps. Missiles whizz by harmlessly. Wall spikes and other hazards are jammed and broken with swift whacks with her axe. Poison gas traps are quickly blocked with wet cloth or ignited with a match. She racks up XP quickly.

You find yourself before a bridge with multiple swinging swinging axe blades. It is a narrow bridge and under it is a deep abyss. You hear _something _deep within yet none of you are all too curious to actually investigate.

The axe heads swing like pendulums, massive blades the size of the halfling.

"Why do you always compare my size when there's something big?" asks Silica.

The axe heads swing slowly, you could probably all make it. Silica designates her orb of light to Argo so she can see better when she goes first.

Argo runs past like nobody's business. Silica recalls the light and passes it to the Black Swordsman. He runs past with no issue. The process repeats itself with the dwarf, then the orc whose agility is unhindered despite the mortar slung over his back.

Unlike the rest of the party, Silica does not run past, she takes careful steps and stands between the space between the swinging axe heads. The massive bronze implements of death swoosh by, as if she were standing right next to heavy traffic.

You go up to the second floor via a set of stairs.

Everyone roll for a save with heavy disadvantage.

There is just the swiftest of sharp short cracks that rattle through the air accompanying a click. The swordsman takes a gunshot to his back, his bright pink jacket does nothing against it.

"It's Bigga Boss! The sneak devil is here!" says Krogan.

You ready yourselves for battle.

Yet battle does not come. You wait a little longer and still nothing. "Keep your eyes and ears out," says the orc.

The priestess casts a quick heal and you move deeper into the tomb.

There is another bridge above another dark abyss, now with five swinging axe heads. Argo moves first. She passes the first three axe heads with ease and would have taken the bolt had she not had Deflect Missile. She almost loses balance but composes herself and passes through.

The same process is repeated in the same order. The swordsman knocks the bolt out of the air, Sino simply ducks under it, Krogan takes it like a champ and Silica switches her shield to the other side. You all make it through safely and spy another set of stairs.

You feel eyes on you …

"Get ready!" Sino yells.

Everyone make a roll but there is no disadvantage.

The quiet gunshot misses all of you and in return the dwarf unloads both pistols in a direction. She hits absolutely nothing.

You go through the hopefully last trap room.

It is a bare hallway with absolutely nothing in it and at the end is a door.

"I'd like to roll for traps," says Sino.

You roll high. You don't seem to _see _anything.

"Well I hate you too, GM."

"**I've got a bad feeling about this," **says the Black Swordsman.

You walk ten steps, stop, then another ten steps, and stop. You walk fifteen steps, then stop.

You realise this is gonna take forever, right?

"Look, it's better to be safe than sorry!" says Silica.

"I tire of this!" says Krogan, moving ahead of you. "Come out, kommando! Face me!"

"**What is this idiot doing calling out for a duel? You can't just challenge randos to a duel! Who does that?**" the Black Swordsman says with exasperation.

Everyone at the table stares at Kirito.

"**What?"** he asks, utterly confused.

"As long as we can see through the dark, we'll be fine! Have faith, comrades!" says the priestess.

The priestess' orb of light goes out.

Sino waves the worry away. "That's why we have backup lighting. I reach for my tor-"

You didn't bring a torch.

"Yes, I did! … Did I?"

You didn't.

"I didn't."

"Fine, I bring out my - ah crap," says Argo.

"Let me see here uh … yeah I don't have any either," Silica says sheepishly.

"**My sword is on fire, GM."**

Black fire does nothing Kirito how many times have I told you this.

None of you have brought torches. Not Argo, not Silica, not Sino and not you. I triple checked each of your character sheets. I knew you were gonna make a mistake eventually.

"That's mean!" says Silica.

No, that's you not being careful.

You bring up your hand in front of you and cannot see it, much less each other. Matches do nothing against this magical darkness. The only constant is Krogan's red eyes, and even they are a flicker in this room.

Now roll for initiative.

Bigga Boss out-initiatives all of you.

Another crack and the elf finds she has a bullet wound in her side. Sino fires her pistols in two different directions, and not even the muzzle flash of light from her guns does anything to locate the enemy. Silica swings her flail at thin air.

Krogan screams in rage and you can hear the swinging of his adamantium blade. Now, Kirito what do you do?

"**Wait, I have torches!"** says the swordsman.

No, you don't.

"**Yes, I do! See?"**

I'm looking at your character sheet now and it says nothing about any in your inventory. Your inventory section is filled with like thirty skulls. And you named them individually? And I thought I've seen some psycho players before.

"Flip the page! I wrote on the other side because I was running out of my space."

Twelve torches? Where did you get twelve torches? We did shopping before the session started and I don't recall you buying these. Where did you get these?

"**Remember in the first session where we went down the first dungeon and accidentally saved the Elusive One? We took all the torches on the way there, like a dozen of them! And you said there were magic torches too."**

Silica speaks up, "Yeah, I remember! We used my sacks!"

I …

Shino takes a long swig from her soda. "I can't believe Kirito is going to save us from this boss fight thanks to his obsessive looting."

"Kii-bou is smarter than he looks, huh?" says Argo.

"**Damn right I am. Wait, what does that mean?"**

Hrrrghhhhhh.

The Black Swordsman takes the torches out from his pack and lights them all on fire. He throws them in every direction and the hallway, previously bare and dark, is now illuminated with light. You can see what's in front of you.

You can see Bigga Boss.

The undead grandmaster of the Deff Komando is hunched over in a corner, pistol in hand. On the end of the gun is a stocky box, no doubt the mysterious gadget that quiets his shots. He is dressed in purple leathers and a long purple bandana completes his appearance.

All of you fall upon him. Being an orc warlord, he is no slouch in melee and he fights with blade and pistol with the ferocity of a true orc. His cruel dagger and pistol shots do a number on you despite being one versus five.

He does not scream, he does not shout, he fights in complete silence as flail, blades, bullets and fists tear him apart. No Waagh escapes his mouth. You find the orc himself extremely unnerving.

The swordsman's black blades and Krogan's adamantium sword burry in its stomach and severs its spine. The orc now lies dead - once again.

The darkness dissipates by a considerable amount. It is still dark, but it is not as dark as it was before, as the magic that shrouds this tomb disappears with Bigga Boss' death. Krogan stands straight and salutes. You find this respect puzzling.

You loot his corpse; the gun taken by Sino, the bandana by the swordsman, and you move on.

* * *

The next room is far more elaborate with multiple displays and cases, many of them are broken and missing, but some still linger. It must have been a gallery or a treasure room of sorts. Fortunately there are crystals that shine brightly and you've no need for a torch.

The swordsman nods. "I say we take all these crystals and sell them back in town for a good price. Then-"

Oh hey look, treasure!

"Treasure?!"

The most notable display is the pedestal in the middle of the room. A plaque written under in Orcish. With both Argo's and Krogan's efforts it is translated: _Staff of the Lich Lord_

It is missing.

"Uh oh," everyone says.

"Maybe we can find some new gear to help us," says Sino.

Luckily for you there are still some artefacts left. Four in fact.

On one display are a pair of sandals with wings attached to them.

The Black Swordsman replaces his worn leather boots with them. They are so light that the swordsman throws them into the air and it descends as slowly as a feather would. Already the swordsman sees visions of radically awesome plunging attacks he can pull off with them.

"Black leathers, spikey pauldrons, a pink jacket, a horned helmet and sandals? Kirito, you're a walking fashion disaster. You can't even call yourself the black swordsman anymore," says Argo.

"Stats over fashion, elf. I pull it off!" he says more to convince himself than he does the others.

On the wall there is a steel shield with inlaid gold engravings on it in which the priestess takes peculiar interest.

You touch the face of the shield and you can feel it touching back. You give it a light knock and you can feel the force reflecting back to you. You slap it and an invisible force slaps you back.

You are about to hit it with your flail when the rest of the party dissuades you from hurting yourself. In short, the shield reflects 20% of the damage taken up to 60 damage.

"I can use this to protect my friends!" says Silica. The party nods at this, touched at the kindness of her heart.

"Imagine the sheer damage I can inflict upon my enemies, he he he!" the priestess giggles evilly. The rest of the party takes a step away from her.

"What do I get?" asks Sino.

You reached for a olive drab green metal box on a nearby shelf. The design of it is alien but the contents even more so. It is ammunition! Brass, conical, elongated. A far cry from the iron balls you've been carrying around. It pairs nicely with the quiet gun from Bigga Boss and could likely fit your own rifle.

"But what caliber is it?"

Uh, I don't know. Big?

"No, I mean, is it 5.56 x 45 mm or is it 7.62 x 51 mm?"

It's uh, a rifle round?

"Those are rifle rounds!"

Look Shino, I'm not a gun nut so it can be whatever caliber you want.

"You realise none of this can fit into my gun right?"

Listen, do you want the extra damage and range or not? It does 50% more damage, but you only have thirty rounds.

"But …"

You know what? You have _fifteen _rounds.

"Fiiine. Thanks, GM."

**"Maybe it's 75mm?"** suggest the swordsman.

Shino turns to Kirito and proceeds to give him a lecture on rifle calibers. This was a mistake, he finds out.

Argo waits in her chair patiently for her treasure.

The biggest artefact in the gallery is a massive red gauntlet, so big it would cover one's entire forearm. Its fingers are twice as thick and it is made of unknown material. Unlike everything else in the gallery, it's the opposite of ancient. Almost … futuristic.

You feel as if you shouldn't take it.

"You don't just dangle a big fancy piece of gear and expect me to _not _take it! Don't mind if I do!"

You place it over your right hand, and as expected, it covers your entire forearm. Here are its stats.

"Kick ass!"

Now roll for Willpower.

"Wha-"

You roll a 1.

_The sky is red with fire. Steel beasts fly over at hyper speed._

_An orc stands before you, wielding a massive gun with multiple barrels. You punch his head in, spraying blood. They are other warriors nearby, clad in shining black armour, shooting their guns multiple times at the orcs without reloading. On their massive pauldrons is the symbol of a stylised lily._

_The battlefield is deafening. There are explosions everywhere._

_One of the red-plated warriors calls you. His helmet is like a sallet with shining red eyes under it. You come to realise the warrior is a woman and she calls you Sister Superior. She holds a banner in her fist, it is an image of a woman with wings and a flaming sword._

_She points to another orc, easily twice the size of every other orc you've fought so far, even bigger than Krogan. The massive orc spits bullets from his left hand and wields massive claws in the other._

_You and your sister charge the warlord, your massive fist crackling with power. Supporting fire explodes from behind you as you cry, "For the Em-"_

The visions of the grim dark future ceases as you return to reality, soaking with sweat.

"Well, that was a trip!" says Argo.

You take a minus 1 to Willpower for the rest of the session.

The elf flexes her encased hand. Its fingers are twice as thick and long than her own but the extra weight is somehow comforting. "An acceptable trade off. Man, I look so cool!" she says.

**"Yeah but my new sandals go really well with my pink jacket over black leathers,"** says the swordsman, convincing no one.

Krogan looks on all of you approvingly. "Let's go. That necromancer isn't going to die by himself."

* * *

**If anyone can't remember when Kirito got the torches, it was chapter 3.**

**I was gonna do a reference to the big cool space man but I decided the cool space nuns is a bit more fitting. Can't even find any art of any of them with power fists! Now that's disappointing right there.**

**Ah, you thought this was the last chapter! Wrong. Tune in to Halloween for the final chapter for 2020!**


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